


In the Light of the New Moon

by Deathangelgw



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Dark, F/M, Foursome - M/M/M/M, Heavy Angst, M/M, Multi, Rape, Sappy Ending, Slash, Threesome - M/M/M, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2017-04-15
Packaged: 2018-10-19 02:17:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 18
Words: 58,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10630089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deathangelgw/pseuds/Deathangelgw
Summary: Ecthelion's fate changes the night he dies in Gondolin. Will his love for Glorfindel and Erestor change his fate once more...before it is too late?





	1. Chapter 1

Title: In the Light of the New Moon pt. 1/17+epilogue  
Author: Deathangelgw  
Author email: deathangelgw@gmail.com  
Archive: [http://dahaven.org](http://dahaven.org/) (all others please ask before taking thanks!)  
Disclaimer: Not mine, all Tolkien's, no suuuuuuue!  
Warnings: AU, slight OOC, slash, violence, torture, death, mind control, eventual lemon/lime, threesome, foursome, SERIOUS angst, dark, sap, some incest if you will...  
Rating: Ranging from PG-13-NC-17  
Pairings: Ecthelion/Glorfindel, Ecthelion/Sauron, Ecthelion/Erestor, Ecthelion/Glorfindel/Erestor, hinted Ecthelion/Turgon/Erestor/Glorfindel, Glorfindel/Turgon, Elrond/Celebrían  
Summary: Ecthelion's fate changes the night he dies in Gondolin. Will his love for Glorfindel and Erestor change his fate once more...before it is too late?  
A/N: Written for the NaNoWriMo contest (even though I had something *else* in mind grrrr *glares at muses*). It struck me one day during massage and begged to be written. It starts at the fall of Gondolin.   
A/N2: A very special thank you to Nellas for the cover picture!! You have been awesome dearest!!  
Enjoy and please review!  
  
'thoughts'  
  
{Fall of Gondolin, Hrívë 510 First Age}  
  
Ash and smoke blanketed the air, screening the dark shapes that continued to pour into the once secret city of Gondolin. Screams of fear mingled with the roars of challenge and the wails of the mourning and dying as the clash of swords, axes, and spears rang throughout the besieged city. Baleful shadows scrambled through the debris that was a mixing of bodies and stone chunks broken from walls and buildings. Broken spear shafts and arrows littered the roadways as lithe elegant bodies stumbled along them in an effort to escape before a crooked blade or claws took their lives.   
  
Fire seemed to add to the chaos, shadows and dancing light making it difficult to see where friend or foe may be hiding through the confusion and panic. The clattering of armor and boots on the pavement brought some hope to those trying to escape the inferno and massacre, but it was a dim hope as the numbers became clear in the carnage.  
  
"To me, my men! To me!"  
  
Turgon's voice suddenly boomed out, summoning his valiant soldiers from the Eleven Houses of Gondolin. He stood tall and regal in the once sparkling Courtyard of the King, tunic torn with several wounds, face ash and blood smeared, and hair mussed from close combat. But his eyes flashed with determination through his grief and despair and his body radiated his stubbornness and royal standing as High King of the Noldor, giving strength to his waning men as they took heart in his shining stature in the midst of all the mayhem.   
  
Glorfindel led his men closer to his friend and King, rallying them with his words. "Fight, my soldiers! Do not let these Orcs know the meaning of mercy! Rally to the King!" he cried, encouraging them onwards as they fought desperately against the rising tide of Orcs. Suddenly, a screeching roar resounded around them as three Balrogs appeared, one of them the Lord Balrog himself...Gothmog. Their blackened bodies smoldered with the fires of their evil master Morgoth, molten as the core of Arda and as deadly as a blazing inferno. Their blades were the blackest of metals, wreathed in flames that would burn any they touched. Whips cracked and sent sparks flying as the Balrogs attacked almost gleefully, their agonizing bellows deafening and terrifying any and all who heard them.   
  
"My King, run!" Ecthelion cried as he raced to his friend's side, seeing his beloved Golden Flower fighting nearby, but not near enough as the three monstrosities closed in on the small troop that surrounded the High King. He snarled in furious rage and renewed energy as he attacked with his men from the House of the Fountain on the encircling vermin that had invaded their city, slicing, cutting, and throwing aside any that dared stand in his way to his King's side. He took up stance alongside Turgon just as the Balrogs stormed in, their fiery whips and blazing swords cutting through their comrades with nary a sign of difficulty. He glimpsed Tuor fighting nearby before his own battle was sought once more by their enemies.   
  
The battle continued to rage and falter as they fought desperately while Fire Drakes flew close and bathed the streets with flame, joining with the Balrogs’ butchery of the Elven race of Gondolin. Ecthelion knew his time would come soon as a gore covered axe met and smashed his arm, rendering it useless before his attacker was decapitated by his sword. But he did not stop in his battle, fighting steadily while the others tried to escape. He met with Glorfindel and smiled almost sadly at his lover, feeling warmth and love as his heartfelt though silent declaration was returned in the form of a special smile from the Lord of the Golden Flower before their interlude of devotion was interrupted by more attackers. He watched Glorfindel rush to their King’s side, yet did not follow as something caught his eye in the movements of his lover and their King.   
  
The tenderness and devotion he saw there was something he had only seen for himself in the golden haired Lord, but it was now directed at the High King. He saw the strengthening smile that was exchanged between the two before a brief brush of lips precluded their parting to battle. Shaken at this sudden and inexplicable revelation, Ecthelion tried to understand just what this betrayal was to him in the hour of their destruction. His heart grew heavy and forlorn in loss, desolate at the infidelity that was only now shown to him. He knew not how long such faithlessness had been played out between the two, but it no longer mattered. He felt his heart grow cold with the darkness of loneliness and hurt before the blaze of his city’s falling registered with him. Hearing the call for retreat, he fought off the Orcs that attacked him with a viciousness born of betrayal and fury.  
  
However, his gaze caught upon Tuor’s stumble and fall as the Balrog Gothmog reared up above him, calling his victory as he raised his blazing whip up for the final blow. Mustering his last dregs of strength and inherent rage, Ecthelion rushed over to Tuor’s aid, standing above him as he blocked the mighty blow with his bloodstained blade. His eyes sparkled with tears that trailed down his soot covered face in sticky trails as he faced the sneering Balrog. Leaping to the attack, he let out a wail of agony and anguish that echoed through the din of the bloodbath, startling many as he slashed at the Balrog in a glorious fight of light against shadow.   
  
The clang of a sword being hit away rang out in the courtyard, almost silencing the battle as all who could watched in rising horror as Ecthelion of the Fountain was disarmed. Facing the Balrog, never did the Elf   
Lord look so magnificent as when he stood, his hair blowing around him in sweeping ebony silk, his face hard with his grief and courage, while his eyes blazed with his defiance against fate as the Balrog Lord laughed almost cruelly while it rose up again to deliver the final blow to the noble Elf. But it was not to be as, with a final look over at his stunned lover, Ecthelion turned and rushed forward, his yell mingling with the Balrog’s roar of challenge and disbelief. He lowered his head and drove the spike that crowned his helmet up into the monster’s chest, piercing the molten chest to the core in a final deathblow.  
  
A shriek of agony bellowed throughout the courtyard, drowning out the sobs of shock from the watching Elves as Ecthelion wrapped his legs around the Balrog’s thighs and pushed up. Ecthelion’s pale yet beauteous face was swiftly darkened as the heat from his falling enemy burned him, but his hold did not loosen as the mortally wounded Balrog stumbled back towards the murky fountain that stood in the center of the Courtyard of the King. With a scream of incredulity and pain, the Lord of the Balrogs plunged into the suddenly sparkling fountain as Ithil blessed its cool waters with its silver beams through the suffocating smoke and ash.   
  
The sound of sizzling water mingled with the death cry of the Balrog as it fell in the deep pool, taking the dying Lord of the Fountain with it. Ecthelion felt the soft coolness engulf him, bringing a balm to his burning skin. And, as his eyes closed for the final time, he heard Glorfindel’s anguish filled voice float out over the din of combat, calling his name in immense grief as he disappeared into the soothing waters. But his heart was cold as his mind’s eye showed him once more the betraying kiss he had witnessed between his beloved and his High King. With his final living thoughts, he made a vow. ‘To the end of all things, I will have my vengeance for such a betrayal. Glorfindel of the House of the Golden Flower...all whom you care for and love will be lost to you...this I swear.’ With that, his faer left his body as it sank to the bottom of the fountain with his enemy and descended into the everlasting chill of Mandos’ Halls.   
  
The silence surrounded him, encircling him as surely as the depthless cold that was drawing him into his new sanctuary. Ecthelion knew he was dead, but he could not give himself any reason to care. His heart had died as much as his body and he had no reason to truly heed his continuance in survival, even in Mandos’ Halls. He found himself floating in a dim room and looked around in disinterest, allowing his senses to flow in his apathy. He noted a shifting in the shadows that surrounded him and focused a bit more on them, his face passive and emotionless, while his eyes were no longer filled with life and love, but instead with betrayal and numbness.  
  
A figure slowly parted from the shadows and coalesced before the fallen Lord. Robes of deepest blue clothed the tall form, though they seemed to shift between blue and black as he moved. Hair as dark as the night sky flowed about the person, shimmering here and there as though with starlight as it brushed along the elegant form, defying the simple silver coronet that held the flowing silk in check, its dark sapphire center gleaming in a faint light that had no source. Ecthelion felt his gaze drawn up and held by the penetrating stare that was leveled on his person, eyes of almost fathomless black holding him in contemplation from within the alabaster chiseled face. A very small frown came to the thin lips that were centered in the poised face, earning a mirroring crease of the pale lips on Ecthelion’s face as they continued in their mutually silent contemplation of the other.   
  
Sighing inwardly, Ecthelion relaxed slightly, still unable to truly care on what his fate was or who he was facing. “You are Námo...come here to lead me to your Halls?” he asked softly, dully as he stood stiffly before the Vala of death, his gaze lowering in an almost mocking bow of respect.  
  
“Ecthelion of the Fountain...your heart had been injured just before you died and came to my realm in a most courageous act. Why do you make such a vow when forgiveness can be sought here in my Halls?” Námo asked instead, his voice both rumbling and piercing the darkness that enshrouded them as his gaze of infinity took in the nigh broken faer before him.  
  
A thrill of almost fear swept through Ecthelion as he looked up at Námo once more. But his face hardened once more in blank observation. “As you have told my people from the day of our creation and presentation into your fold, our fates are our own. Only Eru knows all and we are to follow our paths through it all. I have been betrayed by my heart’s keeper and mate for too blind was I to see that my love was not enough. But I will find my vengeance for the abuse of my trust, for that is what we are allowed through our feelings,” he answered coldly, the chill of his voice almost matching the wintry conditions that embraced his faer.  
  
His emotionless state was cracked slightly as he witnessed the shade of sadness that lilted through Námo’s gaze. “So be it. I have given my warning and now your fate has been chosen. For better or for worse, you will walk the path of shadow until the light that you seek frees you from your sorrows. I only hope that you will realize it in time before you are lost for all time,” Námo decreed softly before offering a slender pale hand. “Come then to my Halls, Ecthelion of fallen Gondolin. You may rest until your time comes once more,” he offered gently.  
  
Looking up at the Vala, Ecthelion wondered on the decree briefly before reaching a transparent hand up and resting it within the Lord of Death’s hand. He felt calm then as his icy shell melted some and he felt the grief that had been dwelling within him come out bit by bit. He was led through the shadows and down a darkened hall, looking around vaguely as they went along towards a set of rooms. He observed the vaulted ceiling that seemed to have no peak, even there in the hallways, while towering arches and pillars seemed to support the cresting ceiling. They came to a set of dark wooden doors that were framed by marble that held a shine of silver, reminding him of his own home in Gondolin and bringing out a pang of sorrow at the reminder of all he had lost besides his life. The doors were opened slowly and Námo stepped inside, waving his hand to encompass the rooms. "Welcome to your home in my Halls," he stated softly, a little smile on his lips once more as he turned to the intrigued faer.   
  
Ecthelion peered in, curious on his new accommodations and saw the room was comfortably furnished with a plush four poster bed and a set of chairs that sat near a roaring fire within a stone fireplace, while a desk with writing utensils stood near what appeared to be a window seat that mirrored the one that had been in his own study, save that it was dark outside of those glass panes. His heart soared as he saw on the desk the silver flute that he had played often in his joyful times in Gondolin, more often than not accompanied by Glorfindel. But even the brief twinge of hurt that brushed through him at the thought of his lost lover did not stop him from going over and taking it up.  
  
With an almost childlike smile, he brought the familiar instrument to his lips and began to play, losing himself into the lilting melody that poured forth from his faer and causing him to completely forget the presence of the Vala. He poured all of his love, loss, and heartache in that simple song, allowing it to grow and pour out from him in an ever increasing cadence that floated throughout the Halls. Námo watched him with a slight crooking of his lips as he listened to the at once cheerful and melancholic melody that filled the Halls. He only hoped that the music would be a sign of Ecthelion’s healing before his fate took the dangerous path that was now placed before him.   
  
Without a word, Námo left Ecthelion to see to the other faer that were now entering his Halls, most especially Turgon and Glorfindel. He had read Ecthelion’s wishes and knew that, until they were brought together again, the Golden Flower and the Fountain could never see each other in the Halls. It was Námo’s duty now to be sure that those desires were fulfilled until such time as they were no longer valid.   
  
Unfortunately, he knew that they would indeed be the breaking point in the fates drawn out, but he could do nothing more for it. The threads were cut, the paths placed, and the journeys started. Until then, darkness would rule them. As he went along his shadowed Halls, the Vala considered what Ecthelion's fate would be from hence on. Filled with pain and regret, he would give in to an evil that could lead him to damnation, for he would be reborn soon. But love still lingered in the melody that Ecthelion played and would be the key...if the Lord of the Fountain took it to open the gates of his heart. And, even though he already knew the outcome, Námo also understood that a single misstep would lead to the opposite result.   
  
An almost audible sigh left the Lord of the Dead's lips as he came finally to the room where two more faer awaited him. Both were looking around in the usual confusion that death brought the souls as well as sorrow from the losses and destruction of their home and people. He went in silently, nodding slightly in greeting as they turned to him in surprise before bowing lowly to him in obeisance. “Turukáno of Gondolin, High King of the Noldor and Glorfindel, Lord of the House of the Golden Flower...you come to my realm after a great calamity,” he greeted them as he laced his slender pale fingers together.   
  
“Gondolin...” Turgon trailed off as he looked up, his face pinched with his anguish as he gazed up at the Vala.  
  
“Gone. You fought bravely, but Melkor’s powers were too great even for your noble people, Turukáno. For now, let your hearts be eased in my Halls. Forgiveness and humility shall come to you in time,” Námo replied gently, his fathomless eyes kind with his welcome.  
  
“Ecthelion...where is Ecthelion?” Glorfindel suddenly demanded as he stood, his face anxious and filled with fear while his eyes were wide in his pale face. He moved forward and knelt again, this time at Námo’s feet as he pleaded with the Vala of Death.  
  
Eyes saddening slightly, Námo gazed down at the worried Elf Lord. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath before turning away slightly and pacing a bit. The two Elves watched him apprehensively, fearing suddenly that the worst had happened to their friend. “You were careless at the end, Glorfindel of Gondolin,” he finally stated before turning to them, taking in the apparent shock that changed into horror as they realized what he meant. “He saw your affection before he left. He knows...of your betrayal.”  
  
“It was not betrayal!” Glorfindel cried as he stood once more, his faer fairly glowing with his anger and dismay as he faced the Vala. His face crumpled in anguish as he held his hands out, pleading. “We were going to tell him and connect us all...you know this...you must know this! You know all that Eru knows!” he exclaimed as his soul shivered with the revelation of what he had seen on his lover’s face before Ecthelion had sacrificed himself to save Tuor.  
  
Tilting his head slightly in acknowledgement, Námo watched the agitated faer. “And when would you have told him, Glorfindel of Gondolin? Or you, Turukáno? When would you have gone to your best friend and comrade and told him that you and his lover were intimate for three hundred years while they were together?” he asked quietly, his voice neither judgmental or harsh in reprimand, merely stating the truth. He turned and faced them again, straightening to his formidable stature as he gazed at them, his face now impassive. “Your paths are set...and they are no longer on the same direction as Ecthelion’s.”  
  
“Nay! This can not happen! Ecthelion! Ecthelion hear my voice!” Glorfindel called frantically as he ran towards the door. But he stopped as he came to the entrance and looked out into the darkness that continued on before him, swallowing up anything that may have led him to his beloved. He suddenly sobbed harshly as he leaned against the doorway and rested his head on his arm. He looked up as he heard a soft flute playing in the darkness, recognizing his lover’s music as it enfolded him. However, before he could call out for Ecthelion again, the music became melancholy, tearing at his heart as he saw an image in his mind of Turgon and himself kissing softly during battle and knew that his chance to ever ask for forgiveness and a chance to explain was gone from him.   
  
Turning back into the room before sliding down to the ground, the golden haired Lord stared at the other side of the doorway blankly, tears slowly trailing down his pale cheeks. “Ecthelion...forgive me...” he whispered in a choked voice, He closed his eyes tightly as his mouth trembled with his fight to control his desolation.  
  
Turgon watched his friend as the music continued to twine around them, feeling his own heart break with guilt and anguish. He bowed his head as his fists clenched tightly within his lap, trembling with the force of his misery. “We...were going to tell him this night. It was all supposed to be just the three of us forever on, for I loved them both so dearly,” he murmured numbly, his own face wet with his tears as he stared at his hands. He did not feel the sympathetic gaze that was trained on him as he continued in his remorse. “They were my two closest friends after I lost Elenwë...all I had when I set out to create Gondolin. My love for them knew no bounds and then...” he stopped, his voice shaking with his emotions.  
  
“And then, three hundred years ago on a night when Ecthelion was stationed on the Gate, you admitted your love to Glorfindel in a drunken confession. Then, afterwards, you planned to include Ecthelion, but you stalled, fearful that you would lose Ecthelion when you admitted to your liaison. Days grew to months...months grew to years...years grew to centuries. And he never knew, content with his love for Glorfindel and never suspecting that there was a deeper relationship going on between the two of you,” Námo finished for Turgon as he watched them both. “And never did you two think that perhaps, if you would have spoken immediately with him, then your paths would now be as intertwined in death as well as life.”  
  
A shudder went through the faer of the former High King as his head hung even lower. He could never find it within himself to ever absolve his actions to both his best friends and his people for the amount of betrayals he had perpetuated that night. He curled into himself, grieving for all he had done to cause such anguish through his foolish pride. ‘I am as arrogant as my cousins...my hands are as stained with blood as theirs,’ he realized in despair.  
  
“Nay, son of Fingolfin. Your hands are not as stained as the sons of Fëanor. You did not kill your kin, only did not listen through your pride. All happens through the will of Eru,” Námo declared softly as he bowed his head again, having heard all of Turgon's silent realizations. He looked up and smiled slightly as the two Elves gazed at him dully in their pain. “Rise, Children of Ilúvatar. Your pain will ease in time and, until the time that you will find your redemption, you shall reside here in peace.”  
  
“I will know no peace....until I can find my redemption in Ecthelion’s arms,” Glorfindel whispered brokenly as he stared at his feet listlessly.   
  
Nodding silently, Námo accepted the declaration, knowing that it might indeed be the one thing that would save Ecthelion from his fate. Holding his hand out, he helped Turgon to stand and then went over to Glorfindel. He then aided Glorfindel to his feet and led them each to their new homes, which were conveniently near each other. He watched them go into their rooms and lay down forlornly on their beds to rest for now. He bid Irmo his brother to give them peaceful dreams in the hopes that it would ease their sorrow, but knew that it might not do much.   
  
Their paths were separate for now, for Turgon’s fate would be made in Aman while Glorfindel and Ecthelion’s fates would first reside in Arda. Perhaps they would be reunited, but he knew there was another path that would twine with theirs...if things worked right. But until they knew of the right way, they would remain separate.  
  
For now, they would rest and heal until their rebirths and, hopefully, they would be able to remember their light through the shadows.  
  
TBC

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**  
  
{Halls of Mandos, 3000 SA}  
  
The years drifted by in a haze for the souls in Mandos’ Halls as they rested and considered all they had done or been through in their living years. Many more faer joined all that had fallen before in the Halls, but some were not as welcomed as others. Of Fëanor’s sons, Maedhros and Maglor were all that remained living after the Kin Slaying at the Havens of Sirion. The rest were condemned by their brethren in the Halls and all but Caranthir were repenting of their sins. But peace still reigned within the Halls, a soothing balm to the horrors many of them had seen.   
  
But for Ecthelion, peace was not always available nor sought for him. He wandered the Halls, usually avoiding any interaction with his kin, though he did mingle with Egalmoth and Rog for a few years. He avoided Glorfindel and Turgon however, watching them emotionlessly from the shadows. He noted their subdued nature, the pain and sorrow sometimes almost palpable to him. His heart though had grown cold to them and so he never confronted them, always leaving just before they came into a room.  
  
Many rumors began to whisper through the Halls then of the scandal that had so broken the three beloved Lords of Gondolin. Some of their loyals stepped up to stop the gossip, but even they were unsure. None of the three confirmed or denied the speculations that arose, giving fuel to the rumors. What had indeed happened to cause such grief?  
  
None of this mattered to Ecthelion however as he continued to just exist. He would often stay in the Halls of Weaving where Vairë wove her tapestries of time. He never spoke with her, merely watched as history was personified within the strands of her art. It was there that his fate began to unfold at last as he watched Eärendil, whom he had loved and helped to raise, make a plea to the Valar for aid for his kin against Morgoth.   
  
A gentle shifting in the air around him alerted the observing faer to the emergence of others in the room. Tilting his head a bit, he looked over and saw Námo appear, accompanied by two magnificent beings that could only be Manwë and Varda. He turned fully to them and knelt in obeisance, his fist clenched over his heart in salute. “My Lords and Lady...you honor me with your presence,” he greeted them quietly.  
  
"Your fate has changed, Ecthelion of the House of the Fountain. Are you prepared for the path you shall now walk?" Manwë asked quietly, his pale golden hair a gentle curtain behind him as he paced forward one step. His soft silver and pastel yellow robes rustled ever so slightly with his movements as he folded his hands before his abdomen. His eyes of purest blue focused on the dark haired Elf before them, at once seeing all and revealing nothing more than kindness.  
  
Looking up a bit, Ecthelion fixed his gaze upon a spot just in front of the Valar. "My fate has ever been not of my choice. Who can ever be ready for what life may bring them?" he answered softly, his voice hitching slightly in sorrow as his hand clenched on the floor.  
  
“Every path has many forks, but you are wise to acknowledge your inability to know when your path may change,” Varda replied as she smiled gently. She came forward and placed a slender alabaster hand on the humbled Elf’s shoulder. Her robes of indigo and silver sparkled as she knelt down in front of him, brushing her other hand along his cheek to urge him to look up at her. Her smile was of the light of the stars she had created, gentle and soft as her loving blue eyes probed his dull gaze. “Ecthelion, your life shone with life, love, and light and it shall again. But you must go through many things and you will be important in the upcoming Age.”  
  
“Morgoth shall be vanquished, but the evil shall not leave the lands of Arda,” Manwë added solemnly as he watched them. He bowed his head in acknowledgment as Ecthelion finally focused on him. “You are needed once more on Middle Earth.”  
  
“Nay...let me stay in Aman, I beg of you...” Ecthelion suddenly pleaded as he sat back, trembling ever so slightly as he turned his gaze to each of them in silent appeal. “Let me stay here even! Do not send me back to where my life ended!” he begged, suddenly shedding tears that had not been seen since he had arrived centuries ago in the Houses of the Dead.  
  
Moved, Varda stood and held his hands, bringing his attention to her once more. “Your path is there and you can not avoid it. You have chosen with your vow and you must...you must see it through,” she whispered tenderly, her eyes sparkling with the glint of tears as she gazed at him sorrowfully.  
  
“My...vow?” Ecthelion murmured in confusion as he stared at her. His eyes widened before dimming as he realized just what she meant. “My vow...aye...I remember now...” He closed his eyes slowly and bowed his head, his shoulders and body slumping in defeat as he recognized that, with his own words, he had condemned himself to his fate. “My fate...is not mine. I understand now,” he whispered quietly in resignation as he bent his head. He was silent for a minute before looking up and focusing on them, once more in control of his emotions. “I am ready to follow your will.”  
  
Bowing their heads in acceptance, the three Vala stepped back. Turning as one, they went through a doorway, followed by Ecthelion, and went down the hall towards a room that was glowing faintly blue. Entering it, Ecthelion saw a shimmering oval in the center of the room, elevated above a circle that was engraved with various symbols. The oval itself was liquid seeming, blue, white, and silver light melding together in mimicry of the ocean. Silently, Ecthelion looked over at the three Vala, waiting for an explanation. Focusing on him, Námo folded his hands in front of his stomach as he explained. “You are being reborn, but within the body you left upon your death. However, Gondolin’s remains have sunk beneath the sea so, with the guidance of Ulmo and his Vassal, Ossë, you shall be brought to the surface, restored in body, to begin your path.”  
  
Nodding in understanding, Ecthelion focused on the portal, his eyes dull with grim acceptance. Whatever happened after he walked through that portal would be his fate. Nothing more could be done for it. Sighing softly, he took a step forward resolutely, resigned to his fate once more.  
  
“Ecthelion!”  
  
The shout startled the soon-to-be reborn faer and he looked over his shoulder, startled to see a frantic Glorfindel standing in the doorway, golden hair wild about his body as he stared at Ecthelion with wide and hope-filled blue eyes. “Ecthelion, wait...please, I must speak with you,” he said softly as he came into the room.  
  
Námo, Manwë, and Varda stepped back to watch the confrontation. It was expected and would seal their fate until the time came that they would reverse their fortune. Ecthelion turned a bit more to face Glorfindel, but his face was of stone, so cold and forbidding that it stopped Glorfindel from entering any farther. “I have nothing to say to you, oath breaker,” he whispered softly, cruelly as he stood straight and tall.   
  
“Ecthelion please...melethen please let me explain,” (my love) Glorfindel beseeched his former lover as he reached a pale hand out to his beloved.   
  
“You have no right to speak of anything, for it was nothing.” The emotionless statement stunned Glorfindel as he stared at the Elf he loved. He felt his heart freeze slowly as he took in the unwelcome stance and icy gaze that was leveled on him. He trembled ever so slightly as Ecthelion condemned their love. “The flames of Morgoth will forever be what I think of what you destroyed with your infidelity,” Ecthelion declared before turning away.  
  
“Nay...” Glorfindel whispered softly, his voice cracking on a sob as he watched Ecthelion walk away. He reached out for his beloved, but was stopped by an invisible wall. He placed his hands on the surface stopping him, shaking as a tear rolled down his cheek. “Ecthelion...melin chen, glîren vorn...” (I love you, my dark song) he whispered softly as he watched Ecthelion step farther from him. He closed his eyes as he leaned against the barrier, trembling. “Do not forget that,” he added barely.  
  
Stopping, Ecthelion stared at the portal that he was a mere foot away and shivered at the whispered declaration and special name that Glorfindel had always murmured to him in a show of affection and love. His eyes closed as he struggled for control, his soul and heart responding to the call of longing. But the image that had taunted him throughout his stay in Mandos’ Halls flashed before his eyes. His eyes hardened and he straightened yet again before stepping through the portal.   
  
Námo, Manwë, and Varda watched as Ecthelion disappeared to reemerge in the living realm before they focused on Glorfindel. “Glorfindel of Gondolin...your path is now before you. Will you step onto it and follow it to follow your heart’s desire?” Varda asked eloquently as she came towards the now listless faer.  
  
“My heart yearns to be with Ecthelion. What other path is there for me but condemnation and suffering?” Glorfindel asked bleakly as he stared at the now fading portal. Another tear rolled down his face as he sighed.  
  
“The path of life and redemption as well as obligations. Your part in Arda’s history is not over, Glorfindel. Are you willing to attend it now in service to your beloved Turgon’s house through Eärendil and his children?” Manwë answered as he spread his hands in invitation. “Would you be willing now to go to Arda to protect the family of Eärendil’s son, Elrond, until the task is complete in the coming dark times?”  
  
“Ever would I protect Turgon’s family, but would it be wise to send me hence when I am oath breaker and false?” Glorfindel whispered bitterly as his head hung, his golden hair brushing limply around his body as if sharing his grief.  
  
“Oath breaker you are not, as we know. And false you are never. But long ago you pledged yourself to Tuor’s family in the raising of Eärendil. Now, his children will need guidance, even when they are parted from each other for eternity through their Choice. The Choice of the Peredhil is one that shall bring great sorrow in their family and they shall need a wise one to guide and protect them. Will you go and prove yourself to Ecthelion?” Varda asked quietly, beseechingly for she longed for all wrongs to be righted soonest, even if it were not to be.  
  
“Ecthelion? He...he will be there?” Glorfindel murmured in surprise before straightening, life coming to his face as he realized what had happened. “He was reborn! He is in Arda and now...” He stopped, trembling as he put a shaking hand to his lips. “I will seek his forgiveness and explain...” he declared, eyes shining with tears of hope now. He stopped once more and frowned then. “But what of Turgon? Is he to be reborn as well and join me?” he inquired expectantly, his eyes filled with hope.  
  
“Nay, Glorfindel. The son of Fingolfin will not be going with you to Arda. Aye, he shall be reborn soon, but shall remain in Aman. It is up to you to find the light within the shadows,” Námo decreed quietly as he gazed solemnly at the Elf Lord.  
  
“Light...within the shadows? What is going to happen?” Glorfindel questioned immediately in worry. “Ecthelion...something will happen to Ecthelion!”   
  
“That is for you to see if you accept to being reborn,” Varda answered firmly, ending the need for more questions. “Do you accept?”  
  
“I do,” Glorfindel answered immediately as he straightened, gazing at them with firm resolve. “I will go to Arda and be with the House of Tuor and will do what I can to earn my place at Ecthelion’s side once more,” he added with unyielding tenacity.   
  
“Very well then. Come with us, Glorfindel of Gondolin. We shall give you what information you shall need before going to serve in Arda,” Manwë replied with a smile before they turned and left the room. Glorfindel followed them immediately, steadfast in his decision as he made a promise to find his love and reunite them for all time.  
  
No matter the cost.  
  
TBC

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**  
  
{Bay of Belfalas, Quellë 3000 SA (approx. end of October)}  
  
The passage from death to life felt as of liquid yet was as light as air as he floated up slowly. Ecthelion turned his face up as the light grew brighter and felt his form become much heavier, more solid as he floated closer to the light. He brought his hand up and saw that it was no longer transparent and glowed faintly blue. He closed his eyes as he floated up and finally broke the surface. He took his first breath as he opened his eyes, and then took in the warm rays of Anor upon his face that mingled with the soft breeze that blew over him. He shifted in the water and looked around slowly, taking in his location. He saw in the distance a mist enshrouded land and knew it to be Arda. He felt a mixture of resignation and relief at the sight of his home, though he knew it was changed from last he had been there. But his fate was there, and so he knew he had to face it.   
  
With a sigh, he began to swim towards shore, feeling the waves push him along towards the awaiting terrain that loomed ever closer towards him. He heard the call of the seagulls and smiled faintly at the almost greeting they sent him as they wheeled above him. He felt that his energy never waned as he drew closer to the shore and knew it to be of the Valar’s doing that he never grew weary until his feet touched the shore. He crawled onto the shore, panting slightly from exertion, for it had been many centuries since he had last breathed. Steadily, he went towards the forest that called to him, promising him comfort within its shadowed depths. He sat down next to a welcoming willow tree, smiling slightly as the lissome boughs brushed over him in greeting. Comforted, he let his eyes grow hazy with reverie, secure in the knowledge that he would be watched over for now by the forest.  
  
Time passed around the unknowing Elf as he rested, luckily in a dreamless reverie, but it was not to last forever. The sound of fighting brought him slowly from his sleep and had reality crashing around him within moments. Standing, he brushed a hand over his face in an effort to dispel his sleepiness before striding from the protective willow's embrace. He came around a bend and stopped as he came upon the battle scene, taking in the desperate lunges from the injured defenders as they fought against their attackers. The Orcs who were besieging what seemed to be travelers snarled in glee as they picked them off one by one until only a child and his mother remained.   
  
Unable to move for some odd reason as he watched in sickening horror as they played with the child and mother cruelly, Ecthelion tried to go to their aide. But he could not for he felt paralyzed like he had never been before. Finally, when the mother lay dead from a blow to her fragile head and the child's wails filled the forest, it broke upon him why he was so paralyzed. The child looked like Glorfindel.  
  
Pale long hair down to his waist, blazing blue eyes that defied the laughing Orcs as they taunted him over his mother's corpse, the child was the very essence of Glorfindel within a mortal's body. He gasped as the child's curses were suddenly silenced by a slice to his throat and he fell lifeless atop his mother. The Orcs turned their attention to him in surprise, then evil excitement at the thought of another death to add to their expedition. Ecthelion searched for a sword, and then prepared to battle them hand to hand when a hand came to rest on his shoulder, startling him. He whirled around, backing into a tree to make sure none of them came behind him as he watched a beautiful male come towards him.   
  
From the way the Orcs were holding back, the Elf surmised that this person was their leader somehow. But the beauty before him was what threw him off into confusion. Hair as dark as the night sky, skin as pale as marble, and eyes as knowing as a Maiar within the dark depths, the male seemed to look deeply into Ecthelion’s own faer, as if searching for something that lay hidden deep within while a soft smile touched the rose colored lips. A slight shifting of the head revealed the pointed ears of a High Elf, yet Ecthelion knew that this was no Elf. ‘A Maiar...one of the servants of the Valar...but what is he doing here commanding Orcs?’ he wondered as he pressed himself against the tree, wide eyes focused on the Maiar as he came ever closer to him.   
  
“Who are you, Lord Elf?” the Maiar murmured softly, almost seductively as he licked his lips, his eyes hooding as he gazed at Ecthelion. His voice was a smooth baritone, silky with promise and satiny with invitation. He tilted his head as Ecthelion remained silent and placed his hand alongside the wary Elf’s head on the tree trunk. “Come now...tell me who you are? They will not harm you and I sense that you are indeed someone important,” he purred out, smirking as Ecthelion closed his eyes slightly, his cheeks pinking.  
  
“Ecthelion...” the Elf whispered softly as he looked down at his feet, away from the mesmerizing eyes. He almost shivered with both want and a slight bit of fear, confusion clouding his senses and reactions as he struggled to regain himself. Taking a deep steeling breath, he looked up slowly and locked cold grey blue eyes upon the Maiar. “I have told you my name, now who are you and what did those mortals do to deserve such cruel deaths?” he demanded softly.  
  
“Ecthelion...of Gondolin are you?” the Maiar whispered thoughtfully, his voice lilting with his interest as he leaned closer. His dark studied the cold Elf before him, his lips tilting in a smirk that oozed amusement. “Gondolin that was destroyed by my Master...and now you return from Mandos’ Halls....” he continued as his smirk grew in realization when the Elf’s eyes flashed with both grief and rage as he jerked away. Shifting in, the Maiar nuzzled into the pale neck as his hands grasped Ecthelion’s shoulders, pinning him between the tree and the Maiar. “Such darkness I sense in you for one of the Valar’s favorite play toys. But you are Noldor as well...always so arrogant,” he purred in dark delight and merriment.  
  
“Release me!” Ecthelion snarled as he pushed the Maiar away from him, but then was captured once more by scarred hands as the Orcs surrounded them or pinned Ecthelion. Growling angrily as the Orcs and their Master laughed in cruel pleasure at his struggles, the Elf Lord fought to break free, his heart pounding madly within his chest as he stared at the watching Maiar. “You are Sauron...I know you now! You are the one who betrayed wise Aulë for power!” he hissed out angrily, his gaze flinty with the fire of his rage as he glared at Sauron.  
  
“I am He, though I go by the name of Annatar within the trusting ranks of your Kin of Eregion,” Sauron sneered as he stood, relaxed. He chuckled as he brought up his slender right hand, his ring finger glittering with malice as Anor’s rays played upon the dark gold that was encircling it. “To the end, that fool Celebrimbor believed me to be a friend and aide to him. Forever shall he wallow in his regret...” he purred mockingly before laughing softly, echoed by minions. He stopped then as he tapped his chin before sauntering over slowly, his gaze carefully taking in the enraged, yet helpless Elf before him. “I wonder though, Ecthelion of the House of the Fountain, just why you have been reborn and especially in a place so near to *my* realm. Could it be because Gondolin’s ruins lie beneath the ocean near here along with almost all of Beleriand?” he mused before cupping Ecthelion’s chin with his hand. His eyes glittered with evil enjoyment as Ecthelion stared back defiantly. “And yet such delicious darkness in your faer. I think...that I shall use you against your own beloved Kin.”  
  
“I will never serve you, evil creature of Morgoth! I will die before I ever serve you!” Ecthelion roared before he set into motion, his rage giving him the energy to break free. With a swift shake of his shoulder, he broke one hold and grabbed the surprised Orc’s sword, running the beast through with it. He then slashed the head off of his other captor before stabbing, slicing, or chopping the remaining Orcs until all were dead in a lingering pile of bloodied limbs or gored bodies. He panted for breath as he raised his weapon and faced Sauron, his eyes shimmering with his anger and need to destroy as he advanced slowly onto the watching Maiar. “I will destroy you and stop your evil from invading this land and my fate will be finished,” he whispered harshly as stalked forward.  
  
“Your fate has only just begun, Ecthelion of Gondolin,” Annatar replied softly, his eyes slitted as he sneered at the Elf. In a move too fast to see, he shifted forward, knocking the sword from Ecthelion’s hand with a well aimed kick before grabbing the pale neck and raising the shocked Elf above him until he was dangling as he choked. Ecthelion tried to pry the clamped hand from his throat as he stared wide-eyed at the amused Maiar. “Do you think I am so easy to destroy? You have no idea of my power. But you will. And you will serve me, for I shall have great use for you, oath breaker.”  
  
Furious as he struggled more, Ecthelion rasped out, “I...am...no...oath...breaker!”  
  
Laughing cruelly, Sauron’s head fell back as he laughed. “You are as great an oath breaker as the one whom you gave your heart to!” he retorted in glee, eyes brightening as he saw the widening pupils within his captor’s eyes. “Oh aye, Elf Lord. When you died...you broke your oath to Turgon to do all you could to save your beloved city. By dying with vengeance and hatred in your heart, you condemned yourself to a path so dark that you will be my rival or more through the rest of time!” he declared, then laughed even more as Ecthelion’s hands fell limply to the Elf’s sides as he stared in distress at his holder.   
  
Staring at nothing as shock froze his insides, Ecthelion now knew what the Valar had been warning him of. By vowing vengeance instead of a wish to be together again, he had blackened his soul, making it possible for the darkness inside to come forth should he be tempted. Which he had been just now by Sauron the Deceiver. He did not react as the hold around his neck loosened and released him so that he was standing listlessly before Annatar. He looked up slowly as his chin was lifted to gaze into the deceptively gentle eyes of the Betrayer. Cooing almost tenderly, Annatar smiled as he tilted his head, taking in the defeated gaze upon the pale face. “So much grief. You shall be my greatest triumph in creation. When your time comes, you shall aide me in the destruction of those blasted Elves and their Númenorian allies, the Edain and forever shall your faer be a bane upon they whom you have called Kin,” he whispered almost lovingly as he caressed the soft face with slender fingers.   
  
Unable to even react, Ecthelion could only stare back as his doom was spoken. He had been weak and untrusting, as well as unforgiving. It was why he had not been able to save the child and his mother...because his hurt pride had seen the very image of his lover and he had wanted it to vanish. Slowly, his head tilted over to take in the sight of the fallen mortals whom he had betrayed, his gaze blank in his absorption. Unresisting, he followed after Annatar as he was led away and towards the north east to Mordor. His fate, for now, was once more not his own.   
  
They traveled many days and many nights through the forested land until they came to the blackened and treacherous peaks that surrounded Mordor, Ephel Dúath. There they were met by a host of Orcs that were what seemed to be all that remained from Annatar’s unsuccessful siege upon the Elves of Eriador and Mithlond. Even still it was an impressive remainder ranging within the thousands as they marched into the black mountains. Sauron took Ecthelion to his dark tower Barad-dúr and led the bleak Elf to the depths of his tower where bubbled his potions and other concoctions alongside various creatures that were caged or chained up, snarling as they passed by. Two of the Orcs that had accompanied them inside roughly maneuvered the subdued Elf Lord to a set of wall shackles and chained him there.  
  
They left and Annatar slowly came forward, his face tilted with a smirk as he watched the almost docile Elf. But he knew better. There was as great a fire within the defeated Elf as Glorfindel of Gondolin or any of the other ancient great Elven Lords. However, for now, that fire was subdued, to be twisted to Annatar’s use until the time came for it to be released. His hand came up and touched the pale facial skin, his smirk twitching in amusement as Ecthelion jerked away before turning his face aside while closing his eyes. “You fear what you may become,” Sauron whispered as he leaned in, mocking the bound Elf with kindness.  
  
“You may have cracked my spirit, but I shall never bow to you,” Ecthelion retorted suddenly, quietly. His head came up as his eyes opened, filled with the fire that Sauron had known to be within.   
  
Laughing softly, Annatar pressed close, pinning Ecthelion with his body as he wrapped his hand around the pale neck. “Your fire excites me, Elf Lord. Break you I shall...use you I will...destroy you...well that is for your Kin to do, now is it not?” he asked lightly, almost teasingly as he leaned his head to the side to keep their gazes locked. He inclined his head in and brushed his lips over Ecthelion’s, laughing once more as Ecthelion tore his lips away in disgust and rage before bucking against him in a bid to toss the Maiar off of his body. “Such spirit...you are truly one I shall enjoy...” he murmured in dark delight before stepping back.   
  
He went over to his worktable and grabbed a flask, uncorking it before going over to a feline creature that paced nearby within a large cage. It was the largest of the creatures there, completely covered in ebony fur that glistened with the light from the wall sconces and had a long graceful tail swinging behind its powerful body as it paced slowly to and fro within the cage. Its golden green eyes all but glowed in the dim room as it watched them guardedly, growling softly as it continued to walk within its cell agitatedly, and growing all the more upset as Sauron approached.   
  
Watching the pacing creature, Sauron smiled softly, almost dotingly as he studied the beast, feeling Ecthelion's gaze upon them with just as much curiosity as he was showing the cat. "Do you know what they call this cat in your tongue, Elf?" he asked before looking over at Ecthelion, eyes twinkling with his amusement as he watched the Elf Lord. "Faron dhae...shadow hunter. He is one of only a few from deep within the forests of Fangorn. He was captured by my scouts one day and brought here, for he had killed seven of my Orcs. A truly amazing creature," he mused thoughtfully as he returned his gaze to the cat. "He is also known as a panther by the Men, but you do understand that the meanings are the same. He is...a deadly hunter," he purred as he strode slowly towards the watching panther. Reaching in, Sauron ignored the growl that soon grew into a warning roar as he grabbed some of the fur and tore it from the skin. Leaping back, the panther snarled and swiped at Sauron's pale hand, scratching it as he went back against the bars in an effort to escape.  
  
Laughing softly, Sauron licked his injured hand before mixing it with the fur. Making sure that Ecthelion was watching, he placed the blood soaked fur into the flask, then corked it again. He held up the flask, where it swirled a deep maroon before turning into a pale pink. Sauron smiled evilly as he swirled it slowly before looking over at the apprehensive Elf. “Curious, Ecthelion?” he asked almost teasingly as he sauntered over. “This potion is a brew of the most powerful kind. My Master and I used it quite often in the creation of our werewolves,” he explained fondly, as if speaking about his children to an interested relative.  
  
“Those monsters deserved the death they reaped from serving you and your Master,” Ecthelion snapped out in disgust as he pulled futilely at his bindings.  
  
“Would that I could say so of *your* children, but you never had any, now did you? You were *so* busy taking it up the arse by that blond oaf Glorfindel, never knowing that when he left you for the day, he went and rutted with your beloved High King!” Annatar retorted with malicious glee as he laughed, greedily taking in the sight of Ecthelion’s shame colored face and slumped shoulder as his barbs hit their mark. Pouting his lip slightly in mock pity, he finished his return to Ecthelion’s side and ran a hand along the Elf’s chest, smirking as the Elf Lord jerked half-heartedly away. “Do you not thirst for revenge for being made into a fool?” he whispered enticingly as he leaned his head in, his soft lips brushing along a pointed ear to evoke a shudder of both disgust and longing within his prey.  
  
Pulling away, Ecthelion turned his face away as he drew in deep calming breaths rapidly. His body thrummed with the desire that Annatar stirred within him, mingling with the fierce need for vengeance that the taunts had exposed within him. Oh how he wished mightily to have that vengeance for the betrayal and shame he had endured! His blood pulsed heatedly through his veins, mixing his lust and rage into one blazing inferno of unrepressed need within him. He trembled with his internal battle as his mind screamed denial of his need, trying to remind his heart that giving into the creature that had destroyed his home and Kin was unforgivable, but its voice was swiftly being drowned out by his need.   
  
A strangled cry tore from his lips as he was abruptly touched intimately, his turgid length caressed by a smooth cold hand as it rose from his suddenly unlaced leggings. He cried out again as he was squeezed almost gently, his wide dark grey eyes flying up to lock with the lust-filled eyes of his captor. “N-Nay! D-Daro!” (S-Stop!) he gasped out even as his body arched into the touches. He tried to turn his head away, but was held captivated by the dark eyes before him.  
  
Smiling in a shade of loving, Sauron continued to stroke the pulsing flesh in his hand. “You are mine, Ecthelion of the Fountain. Now and until the end of time,” he purred out huskily as he pressed closer. He leaned his head in and brushed his lips over Ecthelion’s before lapping at them with a flick of his tongue. He growled in pleasure as the tender mouth opened and his tongue was greeted by Ecthelion’s tongue. He slid his tongue along the wet greeter, delighting in the panting breaths that sent tingles along his body as they brushed his mouth. He growled once more as Ecthelion moaned with his impending release. “Mine...” he repeated before uncorking the flask once more. As Ecthelion’s body tightened and arched with his fast approaching release, Sauron dumped the contents of the flask into his mouth before sealing his mouth over Ecthelion’s.  
  
Screaming into the moist cavern that stole his breath away, Ecthelion swallowed convulsively as he climaxed, shaking in unprecedented pleasure as the most intense orgasm he had ever had washed over him in mind shattering waves. He gasped erratically for breath when his mouth was released after a bit then looked down in horror at his now flaccid member as it lay softened in Sauron’s hand, which was covered with his sticky release along with his leggings and stomach. What had just happened?!  
  
Chuckling lowly, Sauron observed his captive’s expression before bringing his hand up and licking it clean. He shifted up and stepped back as he grinned, catching Ecthelion’s stupefied gaze as he finished his cleansing. “You are mine now, Ecthelion of the Fountain,” he murmured matter-of-factly once more, his dark eyes filling with mirth as the Elf Lord’s face darkened with rage.  
  
“I will never be yours, you depraved malice!” Ecthelion roared as he wrenched at his shackles in an effort to attack his holder. His breath shuddered to a stop unexpectedly though as a well of fire seemed to rise up within him before sweeping over him in a flood of heat and agonizing pain. His head fell back as he trembled violently, a scream tearing from him uncontrollably as he was nearly drowned within the painful firestorm that now consumed him. Gasping for air as his chest heaved, Ecthelion fought the pain as he felt his body begin to change. He would not be beaten!  
  
Sauron watched in respectful amazement as he observed the struggle that Ecthelion went through while fighting the effects of the potion. He smirked though as he saw the claws that began to form on the slender fingers, followed by dark fur while the limbs contorted in an effort to change to another form. But a roar of agony and defiance shocked him as Ecthelion shook his head and, with tremendous effort and will, stopped his transformation, forcing himself to return to normal. He stared at Ecthelion as the Elf collapsed in his bonds, shaking and wheezing with his efforts as he glared at Sauron in rebellion. “I...will...never...serve...you...” he managed as he worked to take in air while calming his spirit and body from the pain that still threatened to well up within him.  
  
“I am most impressed, Lord Elf. It is indeed a good reason that your people were always so resistant to my Master’s work,” Sauron whispered before sneering. “But you forget that you are not the only one with will power. I *will* break you and soon, you will be my means to revenge upon your people,” he added quietly, coldly.   
  
Straightening slowly, Ecthelion tossed his head gracefully before returning his gaze to Sauron. “You will try and fail,” he whispered boldly. He frowned as Sauron merely smirked at him before leaving the dungeon, the door clicking shut in a haunting sound of closure that made him feel hollow. Once alone though, Ecthelion bowed his head and sagged in his bonds wearily, heavy with sorrow and fatigue. A single tear rolled down his face as he gave into his fatigue and fell into reverie. He knew his suffering had only just begun.  
  
TBC

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**  
  
{Barad-dúr, Hrívë 3000 SA (approx. December 16)}  
  
Darkness seemed to shroud Ecthelion, clouding his sense of time passage and almost taking away his awareness of who he was. His battles with the potion were increasing as his weariness, hunger, and despair grew, yet still, he fought it in the hopes that he could force it out of his body and faer. Sometimes he would cry out for Glorfindel, for Turgon, or for his friends whom he had lost, but knew that none would come. Nevertheless he did not give up hope. It flared in his heart as he stood locked in his shackles, giving him much needed bursts of energy to fight his dark fate. But it would not last for long.  
  
The door creaking open caused Ecthelion to look up slowly, tiredly taking in the presence of his tormentor. Sauron smirked at him as he strode in, his otherworldly form clothed in satiny black robes that shone with the dim candle light within the dungeon room. He came over, carrying a tray of food that consisted of a bowl of weak broth and a lump of almost moldy bread. “Hungry are we?” he asked with amusement as Ecthelion gave him a glare. He glanced over at the pail of raw meat he had brought in for his panther and tilted an eyebrow as Ecthelion also glanced over and looked to be almost salivating at the sight of the raw bloodied meat. “Well now...this is an interesting development...” he murmured, grinning evilly as Ecthelion growled at him.   
  
Only able to watch, Ecthelion straightened up as Sauron went over to the pail and drew out a dripping slab of meat. He swallowed hard in both revulsion and rising hunger as he caught the scent of blood when Sauron wafted the meat under his nose. He turned his head, trembling as he fought his need for this fresh meat, but could not fight it for long as his hunger took over. With a desperate snarl, he turned his head back and began eating the meat, tearing the soft muscle and devouring it as fast as he could.   
  
Watching Ecthelion in rising amusement, Sauron held the meat steady until the last bit, then went over to the pail again and brought it over to the staring panther. He tossed them in and stepped back as the panther set to work on the oozing gobs of meat, tearing them apart with his fangs and growling as he watched Sauron warily. But soon, just as Ecthelion’s dinner, it was gone and the cat began cleaning himself properly, ignoring his captor as he licked his paws and body.  
  
Chuckling softly, Sauron sat down at the table and watched Ecthelion, who was also licking around his face in an attempt to clean himself. “My, my Ecthelion...you have weakened in your battle against my magic,” he purred out, grinning again as Ecthelion glared at him with more heat now as his strength returned courtesy of the unexpected meal. Clicking his tongue against his teeth, Sauron shifted back in his chair, propped his elbow on the back of it, and leaned his chin on his fist as he watched the Elf. “And now you feel more powerful, yet to what edge is this power leaning towards?” he asked softly as he tapped his lips in contemplation.  
  
“An edge to defeating your dark plans, Sauron,” Ecthelion retorted angrily, his grey blue eyes flashing with his renewed determination as he glowered at the Maiar. He smirked then, a most dark and evil looking smirk that had ever been seen on his face. “You will never win against me. You will be defeated by the very creatures you despise and work to control,” he hissed out almost maliciously.  
  
Cocking an eyebrow as he sneered, Sauron leaned forward and whispered, “Not from where I am sitting now.” He stood slowly and went over to his potions once more, taking down a matching flask to the one that had caused Ecthelion’s downfall as he smirked over at the observing Elf Lord. “Your battles have only just begun, Elf Lord of Gondolin. You can not fight the darkness that is within your heart forever,” he stated softly as he went over to the drowsy panther.   
  
“I will fight you with all I am until my last breath leaves me,” Ecthelion vowed heatedly as he stood taller in his chains, his eyes bright with his resolve. He watched grimly as Sauron snagged some fur once more from the now more aware panther and was once more slashed at.   
  
Turning with a grin as he spread his blood over the fur, Sauron tilted his head as he chuckled. “Fight all you will, but you can not fight who you now are. In two nights the new moon shall be upon us. Do you know what that means?” he asked conversationally as he placed the blood soaked fur into the potion and swirled it as the maroon coloring turned to the indicative pale pink. Upon seeing the confusion on the pale shadowed face, he smiled malevolently as he sauntered over towards his chained prisoner. “On the night of the new moon, darkness rules the land for Ithil hides his face and the stars hold not enough power to chase the dark away. On that night, my power and the powers of the shadows are at their most potent, but most especially this new moon. Do you know why?” he queried almost sweetly. When Ecthelion shook his head slowly, eyes wide with dawning horror, Sauron knew he had won. Bending in, he whispered, “It is because it is the Winter Solstice. It is celebrated as the longest night of the year. On that night...you will be mine fully.”  
  
Staring at Sauron in horrified dismay, Ecthelion could not fight back as his head was held with an iron hand and his jaw was forced open. He whimpered and struggled as the potion was poured down his throat, swallowing convulsively around the foul tasting liquid as it burned over his tongue and down his throat. He coughed and shuddered as he gagged, trying and hoping that his body would vomit out the accursed potion, but he was sadly mistaken as he felt the familiar well of fire rise once more within the pit of his belly. He cried out and trembled, shaking his head as he fought the onset of his transformation, struggling to keep himself. He half screamed, half roared as he succeeded once more, but barely, his eyes remaining slitted as he snarled at Sauron in defiance.  
  
Aroused at the display of willpower, Sauron growled as well, smirking as he strode over and laced his fingers with the clawed digits while pressing his body against the shaking Elf’s body. “You fight so gallantly, Elf...you arouse me to senses that I thought not possible! I *will* have you as mine!” he whispered heatedly as he ground himself against the trembling body of his captive.  
  
“Never! I will burn in Morgoth’s flames before giving myself to you!” Ecthelion cried out as he fought back while bucking and kicking a bit to push Sauron from him. He shouted angrily as he was kissed forcefully, biting the tongue that tried to invade his mouth before shaking his head roughly in an effort to deter the persistent Maiar. But when he tasted the blood, he growled and returned to the bleeding mouth, suckling and lapping hungrily at the bleeding orifice and tongue.   
  
Lacing his hand in the ebony hair, Sauron yanked back on it, causing Ecthelion’s head to hit the wall slightly. He smirked as Ecthelion glared at him, lips smeared ruby red with blood as he panted wetly. “You are in my flames and I burn from Morgoth. You *are* mine,” he growled out huskily before kissing Ecthelion eagerly again, purring as Ecthelion moaned into his mouth while claws bit into the skin of his other hand. Releasing that hand, he moved his own hand down to their leggings, unlacing them distractedly as their kiss grew more savage and heated with the bloodlust that was now drowning Ecthelion.  
  
With a snarl of triumph, he managed to unlace their leggings and crashed their lower halves together, bucking and grinding against the eager Elf’s hips as his hand shifted back to push the Elf’s hips forward. He gripped the rippling buttocks he encountered, growling again as Ecthelion snarled warningly while their hard leaking members rubbed coarsely against each other. He lifted his head to gaze into the dark eyes that glared defiantly back at him while they moved together, panting harshly into the other’s face as the battle of wills continued. Ecthelion’s slitted eyes shone with his determination not to give in, his blood covered mouth glinting in the faint light of the dungeon as he bared the hints of fangs his transformation had caused within his mouth. Turned on by the defiance, Sauron kissed Ecthelion again, his body pressing closer to grind cruelly into the pale body while his hands went up to grip the clawed fingers. He hissed as the sharpened nails dug into his hands, cutting them deeply as they clasped their hands tightly together with their rising ardor.   
  
Suddenly, Ecthelion jerked his arms and the sound of snapping metal echoed within the room. Surprised, Sauron could only glimpse Ecthelion’s triumphant face before he was shoved back, spun around, and pushed roughly down onto the nearby table. Glass shattered as flasks and other items were sent careening onto the stone floor with a sweep of Ecthelion’s arm and splinters bit into the Maiar’s stomach as he was shifted onto the wooden top. He snarled at Ecthelion over his shoulder but then gasped as fangs pierced his neck in a quelling motion as the Elf pinned him. Sauron held his breath as he felt the press of a throbbing member at his unprepared entrance just before searing pain ripped through his body as he was split open by that invasive flesh. He cried out in distress but choked on his cry as a snarl rippled through his neck from the pinning mouth that held him, feeling blood trickle down his neck and legs from the wounds on his body. He groaned as Ecthelion began to thrust in him, short sharp thrusts that sent pain spiraling up his spine with each time.   
  
It was a joining of lust, pain, and blood as Ecthelion used Sauron’s body for his rutting. His clawed fingers dug into the pale hips he pounded into while his fanged mouth held Sauron steady. It was over quickly, mingled roars of release echoing in the room to replace the sounds of slapping skin. Pulling away as he panted for air, Ecthelion collapsed onto the floor, shuddering with both pleasure and his need for control as reality came crashing onto him once more. He stared over in a haze at Sauron as the Maiar slowly turned over and sat down on the rickety wooden bench. His eyes narrowed as Sauron began to laugh softly before he wiped his fingers through the mingled semen and blood between his legs and on his stomach.   
  
The Elf Lord found he could not move as his captor stood slowly and walked over to his supine body. His eyes widened as the sneering Maiar knelt next to him, his fingers dripping with the thick mixture of semen and blood. His breath shuddered to a stop as the slender fingers traced around his heart through his torn tunic before circling around his neck, leaving a sticky mark as he spoke softly in the Black Speech of Mordor, “Bind to me and become my slave....forever you shall be mine in darkness until life leaves you.”  
  
As soon as the circle was completed, Ecthelion shuddered, then screamed in agonizing pain as fire and ice seemed to collide through his body when the circle that had just been drawn began to glow. It pulsed in time to his heartbeat steadily as he writhed in pain, his screams swiftly becoming incoherent while he fought and lost against the powerful binding magic. After a while, he fell back onto the ground, shuddering as he gasped for air as the pain slowly left him. He opened his eyes after a bit and focused a little on Sauron as the smug Maiar watched him. “What...have you done to me?” he whispered hoarsely.  
  
“Did you *really* believe I would be so overcome by you? I *wanted* you to give in...and now you are truly mine,” Sauron replied with a sneer before standing and lacing his leggings up again, all signs of their recent activities no longer in evidence on his body. He turned and faced the stricken Elf Lord and laughed again as he ran a hand through his hair before heading for the door. “The Winter Solstice is coming, Ecthelion of the House of the Fountain. I suggest you make peace with the last days of your freedom,” he added mockingly before leaving the room, the door shutting behind him with a thump of finality that sent Ecthelion’s heart plummeting into despair.  
  
Sitting up carefully, Ecthelion held his head and sobbed in anguish. “Glorfindel! Why are you not here?!” he cried out on a wail, but his cry echoed dully around him, absorbed by the dark stone that was his prison. Curling up into a ball like an Elfling, he cried himself into an exhausted reverie, his sleep haunted by the nightmare his life had become.   
  
Time seemed to crawl in the desolate dungeon, marked only by the occasional Orc appearing to deliver food for Ecthelion and the other creatures. The pain within the Elf Lord seemed to abate every now and then, but his battle was never ending as the spells that worked to control and change him were obstructed continuously by Ecthelion's willpower. Yet he knew that his control would not last as he felt the approach of the Winter Solstice rear up around him.  
  
The day of the Winter Solstice had him pacing agitatedly within the confines of the dungeon. He had long freed the other creatures, which had either scurried off into the cracks or had become his and the panther's meal. However, Ecthelion found a certain kinship with the panther, almost as if they both knew that they were of the same blood now. The panther would soothe his feral instincts, calmly licking his wounds when his pain caused him to lash at himself in an effort to draw his concentration elsewhere. But when the day of his doom dawned, Ecthelion felt an almost eerie calm wash over him and he paced quietly, as if waiting for the proper time to strike.   
  
He did not have to wait overly long for it either. At noon when their lunch was delivered, Ecthelion struck swiftly, nearly unseen as he slashed out with his claws and cut through the Orc's throat, leaving it to bleed at the doorway as they walked over the corpse. Looking around warily, the two hunters stalked down the dank hallway, heading for the stairs and the source of light, melding with the shadows easily. Golden slitted eyes took in the surroundings and the panther moved forward quickly, creeping up on the guarding Orcs that were at the doorway. Nary had a sound left the two victims when their throats were sliced cleanly open before their bodies were dragged out of sight to earn them more time to escape. Both predators knew that escape was essential if they were to survive.   
  
They came to the main courtroom and saw Sauron within discussing plans with the attending captains of his creatures. Ecthelion felt his blood boil at the sight of the Maiar who had destroyed his life, but ignored his impulse to rend and kill in order to escape. They crept down a side passage, avoiding as many of their enemies as they could before finally coming out a side entrance of Barad-dúr. But they both could only stare at the desolate field before them in the waning afternoon light. Ecthelion sat down in weariness and smiled slightly as his panther friend leaned against him encouragingly. He looked out over the smoking pits of basalt and magma covered the distance to their freedom that lay several leagues away. He sighed softly again and placed his head on his knees, then, with a frown of determination, stood and looked down at his friend. Nodding once in understanding, they took off stealthily over the terrain, keeping to the shadows that were surrounding them as they dodged the steaming pits of melted earth in their path towards the break in the mountains that they could see.   
  
But just as freedom was at hand, their fortune left them. With a gasp of shock and intense pain, Ecthelion dropped heavily to his knees as he clutched his neck, scrabbling at his pale flesh as if to try and break someone’s hold on his neck...or a collar that kept him bound. The panther turned to him in worry, growling uneasily as he sensed the presence of the Dark One around his ‘kin’. He gently clamped his powerful jaws around a pale arm, tugging on it in an effort to encourage Ecthelion onward. But he was shaken off tenderly by his ‘kin’, confusing him further as Ecthelion grappled for control. Ecthelion finally managed a soft snarl and groan as tears rolled down his face.  
  
Eyes widening at the command, the panther growled in defiance before whining slightly. Ecthelion growled back sorrowfully as another tear trickled down his cheek. Snuffling in sadness, the panther paced forward a bit and nuzzled the Elf’s face, licking his face in sorrowful farewell before turning and continuing his journey to freedom. He stopped only once to look back at the watching Elf Lord before resuming his bolt for the outside world.  
  
Collapsing onto his side, Ecthelion snarled in despair as he fought the hold that Sauron had reestablished on his body. He went rigid with pain as another jolt of agonizing fire shot through his trembling frame as the sun went down. He growled angrily, glaring up at the sky as a shadow fell over him. He locked eyes with a smirking Sauron and hissed in rage. “You will never keep me here forever!” he declared almost gutturally as he stood up barely, his very faer fighting the evil that was now threatening to change him into a creature of Sauron’s making.  
  
“You are mine....never forget it...” Sauron answered softly as he sneered, his pale face a mocking image of caring as he crossed his arms over his chest. “As the moon rises in its dark bed, you shall transform and do as I bid.”  
  
“Never!” Ecthelion screamed in defiance before howling in rage and agony as icy fire seemed to ripple through his shaking frame. He trembled, and then lashed out, his hands curling as they began to become thicker, furrier, his fingers becoming claws within the fur. His arms thickened as well as dark fur continued to climb up along his racked frame. He roared in pain as he tore his clothes off, his body jerking and twitching as bones broke and muscles reformed, becoming a shape that it had not been made for as the dark glistening fur covered the contorting body. A long sleek tail grew from Ecthelion’s tailbone while his face elongated and thickened into a whiskered snout that snarled out his defiance and pain. His ears though stayed pointed and lengthened, becoming a mixture of cat and Elven ears with tufts of dark fur at the tips. Slitted golden cat eyes glared at Sauron as the transformation completed and Ecthelion stood on four gigantic paws before him. His fur was the same ebony as his hair, his eyes, while golden, were flecked with silver and blue. He had on his back a stripe of ivory fur that mingled amidst the black fur, shining in the starlight as Ecthelion roared into the twilight.   
  
Pleased, Sauron slowly strode forward and placed his pale hand atop the huge head, stroking just behind the lengthy ears. “Remarkable...now, I have a task for you, my pet,” he murmured in amazement, then blinked as Ecthelion snarled at him and backed away. He sneered as he tapped his chin in surprise. “You still fight me? What an amazing Elf...we can not have that now can we?” he commented lightly before glaring at the growling panther. Ecthelion twitched and shuddered before hissing warningly as he fought against the control that Sauron was working to wrest from him. But it was a fight he could not win and soon became docile as he groaned in acceptance, tilting his head to the side in a show of submission. Satisfied, Sauron moved forward again and knelt down, nuzzling the dark fur with a purr of his own. “This night you will feast on the men that live in Ithilien. Go into their stronghold and kill their leaders. Return to me before dawn. Now go!” he ordered before standing and pointing towards the area that had been beckoning Ecthelion to freedom. Now it was to slavery that he bound along the path in an easy lope that quickly shortened the distance.   
  
With a burst of speed, he went through the break in the wall and down into the treacherous rocks that surrounded the volcanic peaks. He navigated them surely until he came to the twilight touched trees of Ithilien and melded within the shadows past the watching guards that were on the borders. Moving silently, he traveled through the bushes until he came to the small encampment. He stopped, panting slightly with his exertions as he took in the numbers before him. It was a small troop of about three hundred Men, and that was not including the sentries that were currently keeping watch in the surrounding forest. Almost smirking, Ecthelion moved forward through the remaining bushes and stalked towards the nearest guard. Before an alarm could be given, he lashed out with his paw, tearing out the throat of the Man before stalking into the encampment. He tilted his ears forward warily, keeping a keen eye out for any who might stop him. But he came to the center relatively unharmed and circled the close knit tents that were there. He slipped into the outermost tent and went inside, ripping out the throat of the sleeping youth with his powerful jaws before leaving the tent. He licked his lips to obtain all of the blood on his snout before going into the next tent.  
  
Systematically, he was able to go through eight of the twelve tents before the alarm was sounded. Snarling as he licked his lips from his latest kill, he knew that his first victims had been found. Darting out of the tent, he dodged the rousing Men as he went towards the next tent. With a snarling roar, he tackled the waking general, stopping his screams for help as he clamped his jaws on the slender throat and tore it out. He turned defensively as he heard the tent flap open and hissed before leaping to the attack, a black shadow on the move to kill. Screams of pain were swiftly followed by death gurgles as he killed his intruder before going to the next tent, smoothly avoiding the rallied troops. He finished off the last of the leaders and snuck out, dodging the searchers easily as he blended with the night and headed for Mordor. He stopped at the edge of the peaks and looked back coldly; licking his chops of the blood he had spilled that night. With a growling purr he turned and left the site that was now in an uproar of grief and rage as the Men took in the carnage that had been dealt them that night.   
  
Just as dawn peeked out over the horizon, Ecthelion returned to Barad-dúr and went into the chamber room, sensing where his ‘master’ was. As dawn came, he snarled and roared in pain as he transformed back into himself, his bones cracking and reshaping themselves while his muscles rippled into their original form. The fur left his body to be replaced by sweat soaked hair and pale skin while the paws turned back into slender hands and feet and the lengthened ears and snout shortened to become a pale face and Elven ears. Collapsing onto the ground, Ecthelion panted heavily with the exertion of his transformation as he shuddered. He suddenly gagged and retched, heaving out the blood and gore he had digested from the previous night in his horror at what he had done. With a heartbreaking sob, he turned onto his back away from the mess, his arms and legs splayed out as his body struggled to regain breath and control.   
  
The soft sounds of footsteps caused the blue grey eyes to focus blearily upwards onto the Maiar who had cursed him. Sauron smirked down at him as he stood above the Elf, hands behind his back nonchalantly. “Very good, my pet. You have done very well this first of many hunts,” he purred out before turning and walking out of the room.  
  
Curling up into a fetal position, Ecthelion sobbed softly as he wept for the Men he had killed. How was he going to survive this curse? What did Sauron have plotted for him? Exhausted, he fell into a dreamless sleep on the cold hard floor, unable to find anymore spirit within him to fight or believe in escape. He was indeed doomed.  
  
TBC

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**  
  
{The Grey Havens and Lindon, Tuilë 3200 SA (approx. mid April)}

 

The caress of the salty sea air lulled Glorfindel’s senses into a state of calm as he gazed out over the prow of the ship he was on at the looming land of Middle Earth that they were approaching steadily. He balanced himself with a leg up on one railing and his buttocks back against the opposing railing. The sun shone down on him, causing his hair to glisten like the gold it was named after and shining on the pale skin that was eternally alabaster and forever touched with the light of the Valar. His sharp blue eyes took in the swerving flight of the gulls that called them home as well as the swell and crags of the hills that were to be their harbor. He glanced over as he heard the captain call for them to trim the sails and set them heading windward, into the wind, as they narrowed their course to the harbors of the Grey Havens.

 

He felt a sense of peace and hope well up within him, but knew that he had other duties to attend to first before he could truly focus on his own personal agenda. He was to serve Elrond’s house, who was the son of Eärendil. He saddened briefly as he thought on lost Elros, but his fate was as a Man and not of the Firstborn. Such might be for Elrond’s children, if he was to have any, yet he knew without a doubt that he would protect them with his very life. He owed it to Tuor and Eärendil...and to Turgon.

 

His eyes welled up with tears as he remembered the distant, yet still aching good bye that he had shared with Turgon. Turgon’s words would forever ring in his mind and heart, making him proud to be both friend and lover to such a great Elf. “Find Ecthelion and bring him back to love. Bring him back to us and remember that love forever, Glorfindel. Come back to me...both of you.”

 

‘I will return, my love and King. I will return with Ecthelion and, this time, we shall be together as I know it was meant to be,’ Glorfindel silently vowed as he returned his gaze forward to the nearing lands of his home for so many centuries. ‘Arda...it has changed and yet it has not. I still feel my peace here,’ he thought fondly as he smiled while leaning against the prow, his golden hair blowing within the teasing wind as he rocked with the movements of the boat.

 

The crew and other passengers of the ship came alive as they neared their port, moving out of the way of each other or listening to shouted instructions from the captain and first mate as they made preparations to dock. They pulled in through the guardian reef and cliffs, noticing the ancient Elven architecture that surrounded them within the precipices. Calls and cheers welcomed the returning Elves, though they were very few besides Glorfindel. Most of them were family that had come to reunite early with their returning kith and kin. It had made the journey a bit more enjoyable to hear the stories many of them had to tell of the times and lives they had led within Middle Earth’s welcoming climes.

 

Shouldering the pack that carried all his possessions, including a ring from Turgon and the silver flute that Ecthelion had once played at all times, Glorfindel of Gondolin strode down the gangplank to the wooden dock that berthed their ship. He smiled as he was patted on the back in welcome, shaking hands and nodding to those who greeted him before families were reunited. He skirted to the outside of the crowds and sighed, squelching the loneliness he felt within as he went to find a way to Imladris. But his path was blocked as a single Elf stood formally before him. Cloaked in black and silver robes and with a pale beard framing his pale chiseled face, the Elf stood out distinctly among the rest of the gathered Elves.

 

Stopping, Glorfindel frowned, and then bowed his head in greeting. The greeting was returned before a knowing smile lit the stranger’s face. “Lord Glorfindel...you have returned as was stated. I am Cirdan, Lord of the Teleri of the Grey Havens. I have been sent to guide you to Ereinion Gil-galad, High King of the Noldor for he shall then be your lead to whom you are searching for,” he stated in greeting before turning to the side in a gesture for Glorfindel to follow him.

 

Relaxing, Glorfindel returned the smile as he stepped up to walk alongside the Teleri. “I welcome your aid, Cirdan of the Havens. But I must ask...how do you have a beard when all Elves are clean shaven?” he asked impulsively.

 

A melodious laugh left the pale haired Elf as he tossed his head back before smiling over at Glorfindel in amusement. “You are not the only one to ask me that question, Glorfindel,” he answered before telling his tale as they walked the stairs of the havens towards the city of Lindon. By the time they had reached the bustling Elven city, they had struck up a warm friendship, laughing and sharing stories of their lives and, in Glorfindel's case, of happy times in realms lost. They went into the palace and down the winding halls until they came to more private rooms. Once there, Cirdan steered them into one of the rooms, smiling reassuringly at the returned Elf. He knocked on the large wooden door that loomed before them and entered as soon as he heard the beckon.

 

Going inside, Glorfindel looked around slowly at the comfortable room that they entered. It was obviously both a study and a library with all the shelves of scrolls and parchments surrounding the walls. He took in the curving architecture that vaulted the ceiling and the high paned windows that seemed to support the walls' arcing assent. In front of the western most windows sat a large desk made of mahogany that was trimmed with gold and silver and held the crest of the High King on its polished front. Plush maroon carpeting covered the floor, decorated with gold, blue, and green swirls and leaves. A stone fireplace stood nearby as well, a blazing fire welcoming them in as it crackled cheerfully.

 

Behind the desk was a rather large luxurious chair and within the chair sat a very regal looking Elf. His dark head was crowned with a simple circlet of mithril and gold, while his dark blue and silver vestments draped across his broad shoulders and down his sturdy frame in a stately manner. Dark blue eyes took in their entrance, dancing with intrigue and warmth as well as welcome before the royal Elf stood.

 

Glorfindel knelt immediately onto one knee, his fist coming up instantly in a salute. “My King, I come to serve both you and your Herald, Elrond Eärendilion,” he stated simply as he bowed his golden head.

 

“Rise, Lord Glorfindel. Cirdan has told me what Ulmo informed him of in concern to you. In two days you shall leave for Imladris with a small party, for our times are dangerous with Sauron the Deceiver working to destroy us,” Ereinion replied with a warm smile as he came around the desk and touched the kneeling Elf’s shoulder in a bid to rise. He nodded and shook Glorfindel's hand after the Elf Lord stood, clasping the slender hands with his own in welcome. "You are most welcome, Glorfindel of Gondolin," he whispered softly as he smiled.

 

"I am no longer of Gondolin since that fair city fell at Morgoth's treacherous hands. I am merely Glorfindel," Glorfindel answered with a sad smile of his own before looking away in sorrow and discomfort.

 

"Of course. Forgive my slip, but your story is well known to many of us. It will take many a long time to adjust to your newer status. We merely wished to honor you as a hero," Ereinion replied soothingly as he released the strong hands and crossed his hands before him.

 

"There were many heroes who died that day. Honor them all as well as any who fell in the battle against darkness," Glorfindel responded kindly and humbly, smiling in thanks when the High King nodded in acceptance. "Tell me, my King, what has happened and what is Sauron doing now?" he asked firmly as he tilted his head in question.

 

"First, I feel that we must call in one of the ones who will be journeying with you. Erestor? Are you still in here?" Ereinion called as he led Glorfindel and Cirdan to the two chairs that were stationed in front of his desk. He went over and brought another chair just as a shadow parted from the library section of the study and came towards them. "Ah, good...Erestor...Lord Glorfindel, this is Master Erestor of Imladris. He was my Chief Advisor here until he went with Elrond and became his Chief Advisor there. He was very essential to the establishment of the vale,” the High King introduced the Elf that appeared with a warm smile.

 

But his words only washed over Glorfindel’s shocked mind as he stared at Erestor. The Elf before him was almost an exact image of Ecthelion, if only a little shorter. The high cheek-boned face framed inquisitively penetrative blue grey eyes that swiftly took in the Elf before them while thin lips tilted in a smile of greeting to the Elf Lord. A slender body could be seen within the deceivably formless robes, the long sleeves coming down over slender hands that laced together delicately. Ebony hair floated down the lean back, floating loosely while the top was held in with two braids and a series of sparkling hairclips. But the illusion was broken as Erestor turned his head in a slant of question and the softly pointed ears were revealed. The ears were not sharply pointed, but rather rounded a bit as a Peredhel. “You are Peredhel?” Glorfindel blurted out, then blushed scarlet in his embarrassment as the other three Elves stared at him in consternation.

 

“Aye, I am Peredhel. My mother was of the Folk of Marach and met with an Elf that had escaped from Gondolin’s fall. So, it would seem we have a connection already,” Erestor replied smoothly as he smiled tightly, his blue eyes never leaving Glorfindel’s suddenly saddened eyes.

 

“I apologize but...you look so much like...like Ecthelion of the House of the Fountain. It was...a surprise,” Glorfindel murmured as he bowed his head, shaken to the core.

 

“Ecthelion, you say? Tis no coincidence then since Erestor’s father was indeed a close cousin to Lord Ecthelion. His honorable bloodline has continued on before you,” Ereinion commented congenially, smiling as Glorfindel smiled weakly at him. “Come then...sit. We have much to discuss,” he ordered warmly.

 

“Aye, we do. Lord Glorfindel, perhaps you could tell us why you are to be here once more when you could have stayed in Aman,” Cirdan asked as he sat down in the chair that was at the right corner of the large desk. Glorfindel sank into the chair that was perched in the center while Erestor gracefully slid into the chair that framed the left corner.

 

“I am afraid that I can be no more specific than that I will be serving Elrond and the House of Tuor thusly. But the evil that is rising is also reason for my rebirth and mission,” Glorfindel explained, smiling sheepishly at them in apology as he relaxed.

 

“Well perhaps your mission will coincide with the growing concern that is coming from Mordor. Not only have reports of increasing Orc activity been coming in, but there has also been reports of a strange...assailant...who has been murdering many of our Men allies,” Ereinion said softly, his eyes and face grim as he related this news to the surprised Glorfindel.

 

“An assailant? Has no one seen it and confirmed what it is? You speak as though it came from the shadows itself!” Glorfindel exclaimed in concern as he leaned his chin on his propped up fist, frowning darkly.

 

“Indeed that is what it is almost like. The attacks are only on the nights of the new moon, which is even stranger. The first attack was two hundred years ago on a Winter Solstice night. The attack happened in Ithilien and all of the leaders and their families were slaughtered in their beds along with a few sentries, their throats torn out as if by some...beast,” Cirdan explained quietly as he gazed at Glorfindel solemnly. “It was the first Winter Solstice with a new moon since four hundred years previous and the attacks have not stopped since then. Almost five hundred Men have been killed as were a couple of Dwarves. No Elves as of yet, but we can not take that for granted,” he added with a sigh.

 

“Aye no doubt some post will be attacked. But there were some reports of a large feline leaving the premises. A panther said by some of the witnesses, but the only panthers in existence live in Fangorn and have been very tame recently. It is rare to see them in fact, though none of the Men who live near there will put a claim to killing them in vengeance,” Erestor continued on for Cirdan, frowning darkly as he locked gazes with the worried golden haired Elf. “The reports say that the creature is twice the size of a normal panther and has longer ears. In fact, they say even that the panther shows incredible intelligence.”

 

“It almost sounds like this beast has a human mind...” Glorfindel murmured as he caressed his lip absently in thought. He frowned darkly at that as they all nodded. “Perhaps a poor man that has become now a slave to Sauron?” he suggested.

 

“We think so, save that this creature has been the same since it first appeared two hundred years ago,” Ereinion concurred darkly.

 

Staring at the High King in confusion, Glorfindel’s mind clicked as it processed this and put the puzzle together. His eyes widened and he growled. “An Elf? You think an Elf has been placed in this unfortunate curse?!” he demanded, almost enraged with grief at the thought that a kinsman or woman was now a murdering creature of Sauron’s.

 

“It makes sense though. Only Elves are so immortal. And to be so cunning...I fear that it would be our best respect to this poor Elf to find him or her and kill them,” Ereinion murmured sadly before sighing and standing to walk towards the nearby window. He stared out, hands behind his back as he took in the sea before him. “But that is only one of many problems.” He turned and faced the three other Elves before him. “I fear for the Men of Númenor. Their arrogance is causing a stir that will end in their destruction. Of this I am certain of. Only a few of our mortal kin remember the old alliances and times. Now they are so power hungry and bent on being greater than the Valar themselves that it will only be a matter of time before their destruction will be at hand. I hope only that the few of the Faithful that remain will escape such judgment,” he declared dismally as he bowed his head and gazed down at the floor in bleak consideration.

 

“My Liege...what would you have me do in addition to my mission?” Glorfindel asked quietly as he watched the somber figure before them.

 

Looking up, Ereinion smiled tiredly. “Find out what you can, Glorfindel. I shall leave it to you, Erestor, and Elrond to determine just who it is that has been made into an enemy. Also, I wish for you to work with Galadriel, Celeborn, and Amdír on strengthening the mountain passes’ protection. And also speak with Oropher on how you might be able to help their own security in Greenwood,” he instructed as he sat down in his chair regally.

 

Bowing his head along with Erestor, Glorfindel accepted the charges. “As you wish, my Lord. I shall do my best to fulfill your instructions,” he stated firmly before looking up and smiling.

 

Sighing in relief, Ereinion nodded as well. “Hannon le. Now, if I may impose, Erestor would you please show our guest to some quarters so that he might wash and rest up before the dinner this eve?” (Thank you) he asked politely of his former Chief Advisor.

 

Smirking in amusement as he nodded, Erestor stood, and then tilted his head towards Glorfindel in beckon. “This way, my Lord,” he offered before leading the way out.

 

Sighing in reprieve as he followed after the Peredhel, Glorfindel studied his surroundings without interest. Since he was done with his ‘debriefing’, his exhaustion was pressing in on him with impunity. All of the new information he had learned for the day was overwhelming and he had not even started his search for Ecthelion. At the thought of his lover, he glanced out of the corner of his eye at the serene looking Erestor as they strode together down the halls. The resemblance was remarkable! If it had not been for the ears, he would have embraced the Peredhel as if it had been his lover returned!

 

Cheeks pinking at that thought, Glorfindel quickly looked ahead once more as they came to a set of rooms that were not far from the royal chambers. Erestor smiled as he lifted a hand in verification towards the large oaken doors before them. “I hope you will find your temporary accommodations satisfactory,” he said warmly before turning to leave.

 

“Erestor...my thanks. And I apologize again for my unseemly behavior earlier,” Glorfindel murmured quietly, his comment stopping the Half Elf before he could move a step.

 

Turning and smiling again, Erestor shook his head. “Your love affair with Ecthelion was well known. I know how much I look like my fallen kinsman, so it is understandable. Hopefully it will not hinder us in our working together and in our creating a possible friendship,” he replied soothingly before bowing and leaving.

 

“Aye, hopefully it will not hinder us...” Glorfindel mumbled distractedly, his mind caught upon Erestor’s previous statement. ‘Fallen kinsman...but Ecthelion was reborn. Could he possibly have not come yet to Arda?’ he wondered in worry before going into his rooms to freshen up and prepare for a nap before the evening’s festivities. He had much to think on.

 

TBC

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**  
  
{Barad-dúr and the South Downs, Tuilë 3200 SA (approx. mid April)}

 

_Telepathy_

 

The garish glow of the lava that oozed from Mount Doom cast the pale face of Ecthelion into a marring screen of shadows as he stared out at the desolate and Orc-infested land below him. His gaze was dull, yet hard and cold, not unlike that of the killer he had become over the last two centuries. But, if one were to look closely, they would see the fire of defiance and discipline within the grey blue orbs as they glared icily down at the swarming masses of dark creatures. The face and body that held in the determined faer of this Elf was lean, yet not gaunt even with all he had done and been through since his rebirth. His body was clothed in a simple grey shift that went down to his knees, while his once luxurious dark hair was bound in a braid down his back, limp with lack of care and malnourishment. His chances for cleaning himself were few and far between due to his surroundings, so he had learned to live with being unkempt and filthy.

 

With his body’s transformation, Ecthelion’s metabolism had changed to adjust to the strange modifications and urges he faced, becoming faster to absorb all of the meat he had to take in. He would manage to eat some vegetation and breads when he was away from his ‘Master’, which had the added affect of keeping him sane and Elven when he was his normal self. He had learned to control his transformations save for the nights of the new moon, where he lost his humanity to the predator within. But, even though he could control his transformations, he could not fight Sauron’s control for long in his beast form. In order to survive, his heart and mind had become cold and hard to any feelings, his hatred for Sauron driving him to fight back and work to break the hold that Sauron had on him. But, in the depths of night when he was alone, he mourned for the Men and Dwarves he had murdered.

 

Breathing in deeply of the acrid air that surrounded the burning land of Mordor, Ecthelion contemplated what he was witnessing. He had a feeling that, with the new moon only two days away, he would be sent on another hunt and the Orcs that were assembling would be joining him as both body guards and accomplices. It did not matter to him either way. He killed them when the new moon was over with and, while Sauron punished him for doing so, it was almost as if the Maiar was amused by his continuing struggles and striking out.

 

He heard the door open and the swish of robes on the floor as his ‘Master’ entered, but he did not react, as he usually did in these times. He had nothing to react to anymore. He neither acknowledged nor ignored the hand that glided across his arm and shoulder, keeping his gaze focused on the activities below. He gave no sign even of caring as a lean solid body pressed against his from behind before he was pinned to the body with a strong arm around his waist. He merely blinked slowly as he watched what was before him.

 

A quiet chuckle left the Maiar's chest as he watched the commotion as well over Ecthelion's shoulder, his chin resting on the slim shoulder. He turned his head slightly to look at the hollow profile of the Elf Lord and smirked. "I want you to go through towards Mithlond and kill a band of Elves that will be traveling from Lindon to Imladris," Sauron murmured lightly as if they were speaking about what they would like for dinner.

 

"I will not," Ecthelion whispered harshly as he stared out at the vista in front of him, his grey blue eyes rigid with his rebelliousness as he stood motionless within Sauron's hold.

 

Chuckling once more, Sauron nuzzled the pale neck facing him before licking at where the invisible collar he had created two centuries ago was. Ecthelion stiffened, his face twitching as he tightened his jaw in an effort to resist the pain and command that was flooding through him at that simple contact. "You will do as I say, Ecthelion...you can not resist me for long," Sauron murmured against the taut neck before nipping at the same spot he had licked.

 

A quiet gasp of agony forced its way out of Ecthelion's thinly pressed lips as he struggled to maintain his control. "Never!" he spat out in a hiss as he shook with the force of their battle. He could not stop the groan that left him as his body arched in pain when Sauron tightened his hold on Ecthelion's waist, pulling him closer as he increased the force of his will.

 

"You *will* obey me, Ecthelion. It is in your own best interest after all," Sauron whispered softly against the moist area he had licked. He smiled as he felt the tremors that were shaking the taut body in his hold. He slowly raised his head, brushing his lips over every bit of skin he came across until he came to the pointed ear. “Glorfindel has returned to Middle Earth,” he murmured on a husky breath into the gently curved ear and smirked as Ecthelion froze in his arms. He tilted his head forward a bit, his smirk growing as he saw the look of utter shock on the Elf’s face. It took a lot to create such a reaction, but Sauron knew what buttons to push.

 

“Glorfindel? He...he has returned...” Ecthelion whispered unwittingly, then growled as he closed his eyes tightly against the betraying anger, jealousy, and treachery he felt rise up within him at the image of Glorfindel, his beloved Glorfindel, kissing Turgon with the same tenderness that he would show to Ecthelion in front of his own eyes before he had died then.

 

“Aye, he has returned and shall be going to Imladris. Will it not be such a wondrous chance to take this time to...greet him?” Sauron suggested lightly, as if they were talking about what they were going to be eating later that day for tea.

 

Clamping his mouth tightly shut, Ecthelion struggled against his need for the vengeance that Sauron offered him and the desire to stay himself and not give in to the urge to kill once more. “No...I refuse to kill my kin...” he finally ground out, panting harshly with the strain of his battle.

 

_Obey me, Ecthelion...you will obey me and kill Glorfindel and his party..._

 

“Never!” Ecthelion shouted against the mental taunting and command that was straining his resistance. He could not move away so great was his fight that he was exhausted just with standing. But he would not give in this time.

 

 _Have you forgotten how he betrayed you? Sleeping with Turgon after declaring love troths to you, going to Turgon’s bed while you guarded your gate...where is the loyalty?_ Ecthelion gasped as the images that were suggested became real in his mind and he felt his hurt and betrayal rise up within the embers of his heart. Sauron smirked softly as he sensed that the battle was almost won. He ran his hand down slowly until he came up under the grey shift and cupped the Elf’s suddenly straining member.

 

Ecthelion arched and cried out, both shocked and needing the touch that had not occurred since he had been turned. Their battles had always been mental and of pain, but not since he had been transformed had he ever been touched intimately by the Maiar. His hands came up to stop Sauron, but instead clutched at the softly clothed arms, neither hindering nor helping them as he was touched.

 

 _Obey me, my Ecthelion...you are mine. Obey me..._ Sauron whispered both mentally and verbally as he stroked the hardened flesh that pulsed in his hand. He smiled cruelly as Ecthelion sobbed before arching up with his climax, which spurted out to soak the grey cloth and Sauron’s hand. He had won.

 

Slumping and pulling away, Ecthelion kept his gaze away as Sauron licked his hand clean. He shuddered before drawing in a deep breath and straightening. His eyes became shaded and hard once more, unreadable by any save Sauron. The Maiar grinned in malicious amusement before he went towards the window. “There is a party of Orcs already on their way. They are by now past Dunland and shall reach the South Downs by tomorrow. You are to meet them and intercept the party from Lindon, which will be approximately around there.” He turned and looked over at the stoic Elf Lord. “I want you to make sure you kill Glorfindel and another of his party for certain. The one named Erestor,” he added quietly, darkly.

 

“You underestimate the strength of the Elves,” was all Ecthelion retorted with before turning away. Slowly, his body rippled and reshaped itself, elongating as it became fur covered and dangerous while he transformed into his panther form. He snarled as he glared at Sauron, but accepted the caress to his large head and delicate ears. He growled as he stretched and then yawned before pacing towards the door.

 

Nodding, pleased, Sauron purred softly as he followed his servant out of the stark room. “Go, my pet...teach the Elves that they are no longer immune to my wrath,” he murmured as he watched the sleek shadow leave his halls, melding perfectly with the shadows before his eyes. Yes, Ecthelion was his best and most difficult minion. Not that he minded...

 

Ecthelion moved through Mordor and into Gondor, passing over the Anduin at the Cair Andros before going through Anórien and near Edoras, which he then went along the Entwash through West Emnet. By the next morning, he was near Fangorn and stopped just before turning into the dark forest. He strangely felt comfortable and safe within the ancient woods and transformed. He walked along the gnarled paths that trailed through the trees, evidence of other creatures that dwelled within the safe haven. He tilted his head as he listened to the trees speaking with each other, feeling almost comforted by the groaning words of ancient knowledge. He looked around in reassurance before he came to a spring. A rare smile crossed his lips before he stripped off his grey shift and stepped into the cool pond.

 

A soft sigh of contentment left him as he dipped under the little waterfall that flowed nearby and began rinsing off the accumulated dirt. He unbraided his hair and looked around, smiling again as he saw the dried soap clay on the edge of the pool. Carefully, he went over to the bank and scraped up some of it to aid his cleansing. A few tears rolled down his face as he washed himself, feeling his very self be purified, if only briefly. After a while, he left the pool, feeling refreshed and more himself. Pulling on his shift, he sighed quietly as he gazed around at the peaceful forest, longing to stay but already feeling the evil presence of Sauron within his mind telling him otherwise. As he looked up the sky, he knew that he would come there again when he was free, if only to live in peace.

 

With sorrow and resignation, he transformed back into his panther form and left the calming refuge, skirting around Fangorn and then Isengard before crossing the River Isen in the Gap of Rohan. He then traveled swiftly through Enedwaith, crossing the Greyflood by twilight, and, just as dawn was once more peeking over the horizon, he came upon the South Downs and found the troop of Orcs that he was to be leading. He changed and entered the cave they were hiding in, eyes narrowed as they growled or snarled at him, some standing with their weapons out threateningly at him. “Where is Grúsh?” he demanded coldly as he crossed his arms over his chest imperiously. He glared at the Orc that stalked forward, a large grotesque Orc that was missing half of its face and had several leaking scars on its chest and arms. “Have the scouts found our targets?” he asked quietly, his voice as glacial as the icy mountains of the Hithaiglin.

 

Grunting, the Orc leader nodded brusquely. “They were spotted near the Shire of those Halflings earlier,” it reported with a growl.

 

“Good, then you shall attack at twilight. I will give you the sign after I find their party specifically,” Ecthelion responded before turning away to look out at the sunlight terrain that surrounded them. He turned as he heard some snarls of dissent and tilted his eyebrow in question as he gazed upon the gathered rabble within the cave. “Do you have a problem?” he asked in a bored tone of voice.

 

One of the other Orcs shuffled forward as it glared at Ecthelion. “Why do *we* attack the Elves? The Master stated that you would be,” it asked gutturally, nodding with the other Orcs around it as they growled or snarled in agreement.

 

Calmly, Ecthelion shifted forward slowly, then, moving faster than eye could see, grabbed the nearest Orc’s sword from its hand and sliced the opposing Orc’s head off cleanly, straightening as the body fell with a thud. He looked coldly at the silent troop as they stared at the fallen usurper before he tossed the sword onto the body silently. “Any more questions?” he asked lightly, albeit flatly. He waited a bit as he looked at the Orcs before turning and striding outside. His message was clear.

 

Once outside the cave, he transformed and loped off into the hills of the South Downs, heading for the Old Forest. He came near Bree and stopped, sniffing the air as the wind blew up around him. He transformed into his Elven form and strode into the nearby forest, watching as the group that they were stalking came around the bend, obviously at ease and unsuspecting of their fate. He felt his heart stop as he saw near the center of the group the Elf whom he both loathed and longed for desperately. Golden hair that flowed down to the pale steed’s rump in glittering waves of light framed the sturdy body that burned his own with need, or at least it had in the past. He swallowed hard as he heard Glorfindel’s warm laughter as the golden head tossed in mirth at whatever had been said by the Elf that was riding next to him.

 

Feeling unexpected tears fill his eyes, Ecthelion looked away as pain and loneliness as well as hatred welled up within him at the sight of his lover. He took in several deep breaths before returning his gaze up to watch the traveling group. He blinked as he saw that they were halted, the entire group focused on the golden Elf at the center of them. Glorfindel was in turn alertly gazing into the forest that they passing close to, so close that Ecthelion could see the blue eyes that had once been so mesmerizing to him that he had pledged himself to the Elf that possessed them.

 

Glorfindel stared into the woods intently, focusing almost directly on the area that Ecthelion was hiding within. Ecthelion found himself holding his breath in surprise and concern as the scrutiny continued, earning queries into Glorfindel’s concern. But after a bit, Glorfindel shook his head and smiled sheepishly at the gathered before turning them from the woods. However, as Ecthelion watched the troupe leave, he saw Glorfindel turn a bit to look over his shoulder once more at the forest, searching for whatever had attracted his attention in the first place. Disturbed, Ecthelion stayed in the trees for a time, just watching the group of Elves grow farther away before he left his hiding place. Did Glorfindel sense his presence?

 

Shaking his head, the Elf Lord sighed quietly, wiping his hand over his face before transforming and sprinting at an angle from the group towards where his troop was stationed. He arrived just an hour before sundown and came into the cave. “We go now. They are a league from here. Go,” he ordered icily and stepped to the side as the Orcs, roaring in challenge and bloodlust, charged past him. He watched them leave for a bit, smirking as he knew that he had timed it just right in that the Orcs would be too thrown off by the remaining sunlight that was still about an hour to setting. But he would also help out the Elves of course...

 

Transforming once more, he went swiftly towards the camp just ahead of his ‘troop’ and changed back into himself. He crept close to the camp and gazed into it before looking around for the position of the sentries. He saw them and nodded before slipping into the shadows and traveling towards the nearest one. He came out of the shadows and locked eyes with the sentry, tilting an eyebrow imperiously as he lifted his chin. The Elf, obviously confused, came forward hesitantly as soon as he noticed the pointed ears. Nodding, Ecthelion lifted a finger to his lips before whispering, “You are in danger. A troop of Orcs is heading this way from the hills. Use the remaining sunlight, but be swift.”

 

The Elf’s eyes widened in concern and surprise before becoming serious as he nodded in understanding to what had been told him. Turning away, the sentry went back into the camp and a few minutes later, the hushed activity showed that he had succeeded. Smirking coldly, Ecthelion melded into the shadows and watched calmly as the Orcs came into the attack, only to be surprised when they were instead the attacked. The battle went swiftly, but, as the last of the Orcs were killed, the evening had come upon them. And so had the new moon.

 

With a groan, Ecthelion felt the crushing hold of his beast form claim him and his cry echoed out around the battle wearied Elves. He snarled before stalking forward, his golden eyes glowing with malice as he came into the camp before the startled Elves. His lips parted in an evil sneer as he growled lowly, his body rippling with his movements as he tracked towards them. The Elves moved into defensive positions warily as they observed the slow actions of the predator. Ecthelion’s ears tilted forward as he watched them before snarling and jumping forward in attack, startling them as he landed on the Elf he had spoken to. He slashed swiftly, silencing the screaming Elf into death before facing the remaining Elves, licking his chops as he grinned.

 

His glowing eyes focused on the golden Elf as he strode forward, holding his Orc blood stained sword up warningly as he gazed at the panther. “You are the one...the one who has been killing Men and Dwarves...” Glorfindel whispered as he watched the panther, noting how large indeed it was...almost the size of a Man.

 

Or an Elf.

 

The panther growled as he crouched down before focusing on the Elf just behind Glorfindel. He stopped, straightening up as he stared at Erestor, eyes wide with surprise as he saw his own likeness standing before him. He stepped back in shock before snarling in rage, eyes glistening with tears as he trembled with his treachery. He saw how protective Glorfindel was towards the other Elf and it enraged him further at the betrayal. ‘I will take all whom you love!!’ he cried in his heart, roaring with his sorrow and anger before launching himself at Erestor, claws extended to tear out the pale throat of the Elf.

 

Erestor backed up swiftly in alarm, sword up defensively before him as he blocked the sharp claws that threatened his life. Glorfindel sprung to the rescue as he charged and knocked the predator off of the Advisor, being scored in return on his arm as the stunned panther lashed out after orienting himself. Backing away quickly as he held his injured arm, Glorfindel stood between Erestor and the hunter as the others came closer in and faced the growling creature.

 

Backing away as his glowing eyes faded and changed before their eyes, the panther disappeared slowly into the shadows. They did not attempt pursuit, instead setting to work in tending to their fallen comrade’s body before moving to another site for the night after burning the Orc corpses.  But, as Glorfindel had his wound tended to by Erestor that night, he thought over what had happened with the panther in the attack. The Elf sentry that had been killed had been the one to inform them that he had been told that the Orcs were coming. He had seemed confused, but determined to impart the information that he had mysteriously learned. Before they had been able to know the source of his information, they had been forced into battle.

 

But what had confused Glorfindel had been the pain and sorrow he had seen within the panther’s eyes, something that should not have been possible in a beast. And it had been directed at himself...and Erestor. Sighing quietly as he gazed at Erestor while the other Elf worked on his arm, he smiled softly.  Erestor returned the smile as he finished before they settled down for sleep.  As they went into reverie, Glorfindel found himself thinking about Ecthelion. He prayed once more that his love was safe.

 

Moving swiftly through the night, Ecthelion cried in his pain as he ran, moving through the shadows like liquid darkness. He came to the Greyflood and stopped, panting as he groaned in his grieving and anger before plunging into the cold waters. He crossed the sluggish currents swiftly and shook himself dry on the other side before collapsing. He stayed there until dawn, transforming back into himself before curling up. He released a wail of agony and despair as he wept in betrayal and regret, his hands clawing into the soil and grass he laid within as he trembled with his despair before falling into a deep reverie. His peace now seemed forever lost.

 

TBC

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**  
  
{Imladris, Tuilë 3200 SA (approx. Beginning of May)}

 

The sunlight seemed a little cold to Glorfindel as the party of Elves crossed into Imladris, escorted in by an excited group of sentries that had met them at the border. But the excitement had dimmed when they had glimpsed the body that had been strapped to one of the horses and they knew that the journey had not been as peaceful as they had hoped. Glorfindel knew that they had owed the hidden informant for their main survival, but the mystery behind the source would now forever taint their minds since the Elf that had known who the spy was dead. Glorfindel had a sneaky suspicion that the creature that had attacked them after the Orcs was responsible, but what bothered him was why the beast had.

 

He glanced over at Erestor and saw that his new friend was just as lost in thought as he was, most likely on the same subject. They locked eyes and smiled at each other before looking forward once more as they came around the bend. Glorfindel’s breath hitched in surprise as he took in the beauteous vale that spread out before them, forests misted by the thundering waterfalls that fell from the surrounding valley walls. The buildings of Imladris seemed to meld with the forest and cliffs, striking out as if in extension to the rule of nature.

 

Sighing in appreciation, Glorfindel felt his spirits lifting as he looked over at Erestor, smiling again. “Tis a beautiful vale, my friend. You should be proud,” he complimented warmly as they traveled down the inclining path into the heart of Imladris.

 

Bowing his head as he smiled proudly, Erestor gazed at Glorfindel with twinkling eyes. “I am very proud, aye. Elrond and I worked very hard to bring this peaceful sanctuary to life and all the Elves here are dedicated to its successful arrangement,” he stated quietly before looking ahead once more.

 

“Then I shall pledge myself to its continued existence for as long as I am here on these shores,” Glorfindel stated after a moment of contemplative silence. He locked eyes with Erestor again and grinned. “A peaceful place for an old soldier to live.”

 

“A peaceful place for a lover of harmony to live,” Erestor corrected with another warm smile, but then blinked as a shadow seemed to pass over Glorfindel’s face before the other Elf looked forward with a frown. “Glorfindel?” he queried softly in concern.

 

“Your words...they remind me of my Ecthelion. He would say that as well, and especially since he loved music so,” Glorfindel murmured absently as his mind was lost in happy memories.  He blinked as a gentle hand touched his own, breaking him out of his memories, and turned his saddened gaze to that of his worried companion’s. He smiled weakly and sighed. “I will be fine.”

 

“We will find him,” Erestor murmured softly as he returned his hand to his reins. Glorfindel had told him of Ecthelion’s rebirth and their rather painful parting, so had promised to aid his new friend in the search for his kinsman. He had a feeling that, if things had been so soured when they had parted in both life and death, then most likely Ecthelion was staying in one of the other realms, especially now as Glorfindel’s arrival spread through the Elven lands.

 

Taking a steadying breath, Glorfindel nodded as they came over the bridge that crossed over the Bruinen. ‘Aye, we will find you, Ecthelion. And I pray that you will listen to me and forgive me my transgressions,’ he thought in determination as his face cleared of the gloom that had been taking him over.

 

He looked around in interest as they came down the main pathway that wound its way through the city, heading towards the upper House that was the main buildings for the Lord of Imladris. He smiled warmly as Elves came out to greet them, all cheering as they saw the famous Balrog Slayer, some he even recognized from his time in Gondolin so many centuries before. They came to the main courtyard where many of the Elves were laughing and greeting them while at the top of a wide staircase that led into the house stood several regal looking Elves.

 

The troupe of Elves dismounted, smiling as their horses were led away to the stables while they went towards the Elves that were coming down the stairs.  Glorfindel and Erestor were at the front of the pack as they stopped at the bottom of the stairs and awaited the descending Elves with warm smiles.

 

The lead Elf came forward, his face gentle with a smile and knowledge as he bowed his head to them in greeting. “Mae govannen Lord Glorfindel. Your presence here is a welcome addition to our home. I am Elrond Eärendilion, Lord of Imladris,” he welcomed Glorfindel before offering his hand in salutation to the golden haired Elf.

 

Glorfindel accepted the hand and knelt onto one knee as he bowed his head, touching his forehead to the slender hand. “I pledge my sword and life to your realm and to your house, son of Eärendil. As I had when your father was but a babe, I do so once more with you and your kin until we leave these shores,” he declared firmly before looking up at Elrond and smiling. “You look just as your father and grandfather, Elrond. You have made them proud,” he said quietly as cheering burst up around them.

 

Eyes sparkling in delight, Elrond smiled softly before beckoning Glorfindel to rise. “I hope that, when you might have time, we may sit down and share stories. I...I would like to hear about my lost kin,” he answered just as quietly as he shook hands with Glorfindel. He turned to Erestor and beamed before clasping hands with his friend. “Meldiren...it is so good to have you back with us. Come, you both have much to tell me by the solemn glint I see in your eyes,” (my dear friend) he stated quietly before leading them both up the long stairs. They were followed by two other Elves as the rest went about their duties, all anticipating the feast that would surely be occurring later that night.

 

Talking idly as they walked along the marbled halls, the five Elves discussed random things, pointing out various curiosities to the interested Elf Lord as they headed for Elrond’s study. Once in the study, they gathered around the long table that sat near the long windows at the south wall and seated themselves with Elrond at the head and Glorfindel to his right. Erestor sat on Elrond’s left while the pale haired Elf sat on his right. The brunet Elf sat on Glorfindel’s left, smiling in greeting as he sat down.

 

Sighing quietly, Elrond looked at both Glorfindel and Erestor with sadness as he placed his hands on the polished wood. “Before you tell us what happened on your journey, let me introduce two of our most trusted aides to you, Glorfindel. On Erestor’s right is our head Minstrel, Lindir. He is also one of my aides in the household, dealing with much of our staff problems and concerns. On your left is Melpomaen, who aides Erestor with the outside correspondences and dealing with any guests that we may have. Both will help you if you have any concerns for they have been invaluable to us from the beginning,” he started with a graceful gesture to each Elf as they were introduced. Glorfindel nodded to them both in greeting, giving a small smile to each as they bowed their heads in acknowledgment.

 

Straightening a bit as he nodded, the Peredhel Lord sighed again as he looked down at his hands. “I saw the body that was on the back of that horse. Tell me what happened on your journey here from Lindon,” he bid them as he along with Lindir and Melpomaen focused on the two recently arrived Elven Lords.

 

Erestor and Glorfindel took turns explaining their journey, especially the battle and encounter with the panther. Concerned and grieved, Elrond took in all that was revealed with a heavy heart and concerned soul. “It sounds as though the panther knew who you were. And if the source was indeed the panther, then perhaps we might be able to save the poor faer that has been so ensnared in Sauron’s hold,” he murmured quietly, thoughtfully as he caressed his chin. He sat back and looked at the four other Elves before him. “What are your thoughts on this?” he asked in curiosity.

 

Glancing at Glorfindel in silent request for permission, Erestor looked at Elrond grimly. “I fear that there is other news that has come to light which may concern us more. I...I fear that Ecthelion, whom Glorfindel has informed me has been reborn as well in Middle earth, has been...” he stopped, unable to finish as Glorfindel looked at him in rising understanding and horror. “Forgive me, mellonen...but the coincidence is just too high. It may be as I fear,” (my friend) he whispered sadly as Glorfindel turned his face away.

 

“You think that Lord Ecthelion has become the panther hunter that has been killing for the past two centuries,” Elrond murmured in understanding as he watched the golden haired Elf in sympathy. “If that is so, then t’would be better if we were to end his suffering,” he stated quietly.

 

“Nay! You can not do such a thing! He is kin!” Glorfindel cried unexpectedly as he stood, surprising all present with his display of emotion. His trembling hands braced him on the table as he gazed earnestly at Elrond. “We can cure him if it is so! We do not even know if it is he that has been so changed!” he pleaded intently, casting his gaze at the other three solemn Elves in a desperate plea for their agreement.

 

“Hîren, we understand your despair, but we do not indeed know for certain. Please, calm yourself and think rationally. We will try to find this creature and free it from Sauron’s hold, but it can not happen yet until Sauron has been eliminated from the face of Middle earth,” (My Lord) Melpomaen stated in answer to the plea within the intense blue eyes, his own pale emerald eyes soft with concern and sympathy.

 

Sitting down heavily, Glorfindel released a weighted sigh as he stared down at his hands. “Forgive my outburst. But I have known Ecthelion for millennia. To imagine him doing such foul deeds...”

 

“No one wishes to believe that Elves can do such a thing as murder in cold blood, but Sauron and Morgoth both have been known to change the very hearts of creatures that have served the light for so long into caves of darkness. While it will hurt your very heart to admit this, it is something that may have to be faced and dealt with,” Elrond declared firmly, yet warmly as he gazed at Glorfindel. He reached over and placed a comforting hand over Glorfindel’s shaking hands. “Have faith that we shall try to prove our suppositions wrong and find him elsewhere and try to seek your peace here, my friend,” he suggested gently as he smiled encouragingly at the golden haired Elf.

 

Taking a shaky breath, Glorfindel returned the smile, albeit weakly as he placed a hand over the one on his other hand. “You are just like your great grandfather indeed. He would always knock sense into me when I would stray from my path. Aye, you are right. We have much to do in this time and my search for Ecthelion will be amongst all I must do. Until Sauron’s death, I will do all I can to aide you, my Lord Elrond,” he declared softly as he sat straighter within his seat. The other four Elves nodded and smiled in acceptance of what he had declared before they all set to work on delegating out Glorfindel’s duties as he learned them as well as ideas that could be put into play for the defense of the hidden vale they were dedicated to.

 

After they had finished, Melpomaen showed Glorfindel to his new rooms where his packs had already been unloaded and his belongings had been stored away or sent to be cleaned. He admired his rooms briefly before going into the bathing room to take a soothing bath. He had to ready himself for the feast that was to come that night, but he needed to order his thoughts first. As he sat in the heated water, his mind and heart traveled in search for their partner. Yet, as always, only darkness met his search and despair filled him. He knew that Ecthelion was alive, but feared the worst: that Erestor’s words were indeed true. If that was the truth, then he would take his own blade and end his lover’s agony.

 

He just prayed that it would not come to that. With determination, he rose from the bath and readied himself for the feast. He was prepared to face any and all obstacles before him in order to find his beloved and right the wrongs that he had committed centuries ago. And, to his relief, he was not alone in his search.

 

TBC

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**  
  
{Barad-dúr and Belfalas, 3261 SA, then Númenor, 3262-3319 SA}

 

Ecthelion's return to Mordor was not well received as Sauron's fury for his having failed in the killing of both Glorfindel and Erestor mingled with the rage at having lost a troop of Orcs by some twist of fate to the very Elves he had sought to destroy. By the time that he was finished with Ecthelion's punishment, the Elf Lord wondered dimly if he was finally going to be released from his half life into the Halls of Mandos. But it was not to be so for he healed within a couple days, no sign of his punishment and torture visible on his pale skin. But his eyes had lost even the heat of defiance and so he became cold and withdrawn into himself.

 

Not wishing to risk Ecthelion's capture by taunting the Elves more with his hunter, Sauron did not send his prize creature out to hunt. Instead, he began working on the Men of Númenor, driving dissent within their ranks as he attacked their outposts on the shores of Middle earth and taking claim of them, declaring himself ruler. The battles and conquering went on for six decades until, finally, Ar-Pharazôn usurped the throne. With this move, Sauron knew that his time had come for the downfall of the beloved Númenor.

 

With Ecthelion at his side in his panther form, Annatar went out from Mordor and to the shores of Belfalas. There, they prowled the shores, killing the Men that were dwelling there along with some of the people of Dol Amroth. Never were they caught, for they were merely taunting the Men into panic and fear as well as driving Ar-Pharazôn into a fury of pride, which worked.

 

In the second year of their hunting, a great ship from Númenor appeared on the sea. Annatar, anticipating this, surrendered in suitable awe of the power of the foolish Edain and so he, along with Ecthelion, was taken to Númenor to 'stand trial'.

 

Ecthelion did not react to any of the prideful Men's taunts save for a couple of times when he would not stand the abuse any longer. Those times, a couple of sailors lost their lives as their throats were ripped out before their comrades' eyes. Annatar had already begun to cajole a way into Ar-Pharazôn's heart, so Ecthelion had been given leniency for his killings, but even still, he had earned the hatred of more of the Men. Even though many knew that he was most likely a Man turned into a beast, they still hated him for his changes.

 

Once at Númenor, Ecthelion was placed in a cell within the palace dungeons while Annatar was given a nicer setting for his imprisonment in one of the guest suites at the palace. Yet still Ecthelion found that he could not care in the least and so he stayed in his prison in his beast form, surviving and yet not as his heart and faer died even more out of loneliness.

 

But one day, about two decades after his imprisonment, Ecthelion received a visitor that he had not expected. Upon hearing the soft footsteps down the stairs after the clanging of the bolt being released on the dungeon door, he looked up, golden eyes filled with curiosity. For he did not smell the stench of leather and male sweat, but the sweet scent of flowers and gentleness. He stood up and stretched, yawning widely before he paced slightly in anticipation of whoever was visiting him. He stopped as soon as the footsteps halted in front of his door and watched as gentle blue eyes peered into the small window that was in the door. He blinked in surprise as he realized that it was a female and not just any female, but Queen Míriel of Númenor!

 

Tilting his head, he watched her as she observed him, and then yawned again in mock boredom. A soft chuckle left the lady before she whispered, "You are indeed intelligent. Rumor has it that you are a Man made into what you are. But I do not think so, for not even any of the Edain live so long as you have, Master Panther. Will you not reveal who you are?"

 

Eyes narrowing in consideration, then warmth, Ecthelion slowly walked towards the door where he heard her breath catch in fear. Before her eyes he transformed and stood before her, his grey blue eyes tired with his battles, but he was fitter than he had been for a while since he was well fed, most likely by this lady's request. His lips quirked slightly in a pale shade of his smile as he came over to the door, his slender hands gripping the bars that blocked the small window while he leaned his chin against the edge. His grey blue eyes focused on his visitor as they studied each other. “Are you pleased now?” Ecthelion asked very softly, his voice raw from lack of use.

 

Her eyes were filled with shock and sorrow as she looked him over before she came closer and wrapped her hands around his slender fingers. “You *are* an Elf! How? What has happened to bring you such a sorrowful fate?” she asked in despair as tears gathered in her luminous pale blue eyes.

 

His lips twisted again in a faint parody of his smile as he sighed quietly. “Tis of foolishness and pride that I fell, you could say. Quite like how your people are falling, my Lady,” he answered softly as he stared into her eyes.

 

She nodded sorrowfully as she rested her head on the door, keeping their gazes locked. “I know it, but how can I stop it? My husband has swiftly been falling to your keeper, Annatar. His mind and soul were already twisted before meeting with the Deceiver,” she whispered in dismay.

 

“Do none of your people follow the old ways, my Lady?” Ecthelion asked in concern as he switched the hold of their hands and held hers in comfort.

 

Drawing in a deep breath, the Queen looked around first before returning her gaze to his solemnly. “There are a few left that are known as the Faithful. They are living near the shores facing Arda. Elendil and his sons are the leaders and still keep in contact with Ereinion Gil-galad. I believe that they are preparing to leave for fear of what my husband may do,” she whispered confidentially as she leaned in closer. “There are only a few of us after my kinsman had persecuted so many of those of us who remain faithful,” she added with distress.

 

Sighing quietly, Ecthelion closed his eyes tiredly. “I wish that I could be free so that I might aid your people, but I am not trustworthy. Sauron controls me, especially...” He sighed again and turned away, releasing her hands as he paced away.

 

“My Lord, you have not stopped fighting, have you?” Míriel asked in concern as she moved closer and watched as he paced within the cell. Her eyes widened as he stopped and looked up at the ceiling, not answering her. “My Lord...what has he done to so break a spirit as noble as yours?” she whispered in despair.

 

“If only you knew. There are some things that even Elves can not handle. Heartbreak and betrayal will turn an Elf just as much as a Man. Sauron used that to his advantage plus other things,” Ecthelion replied tonelessly as he stared out the small window that was above his bed, allowing in weak light from the outside world. “You know not the sorrow and self hatred I have for all the Men I have killed. I would welcome oblivion, but I know that it will not happen until my fate is finished.”

 

“Such sorrow I can sense even as you speak, my Lord. Yet I sense also that you have *not* given up. Else why would you be so worried for my kin and people?” the Queen declared firmly, smiling as he turned to her warily. “Aye, my Lord. I hear it and see it in your eyes. You are still a good and loyal servant of light just as I am. And I know that your heart will heal of its wounds soon. You just must not give up,” she added warmly as he came back to her.

 

Eyes shining with a warmth that had not been present for nigh unto a century, Ecthelion folded his hands gently around hers again. “Hannon le, Hirilen. Your words bring solace to my heart,” (Thank you, my Lady) he whispered sincerely as he leaned his face against the bars close to her face. He closed his eyes as she brushed her hand soothingly along his face, taking away his sorrow if even briefly. He opened his eyes once more and gazed at her. “You must go. Please keep my identity a secret,” he murmured softly.

 

“Will you tell me your name, my Lord?” she asked quietly as she stepped back slightly.

 

Watching her sadly, another smile crossed Ecthelion’s lips before he stood. “My name was once Ecthelion of the House of the Fountain. But I am now known as Agarwaen ‘uruthos,” (Bloodstained Death horror) he informed her softly before turning away.

 

“The great Ecthelion who slew Gothmog in the battle of Gondolin...then I shall work even harder to win your freedom and your proper name, my Lord,” Míriel declared firmly before bowing deeply and leaving the Elf alone.

 

A sad light came to Ecthelion’s face as he looked out the window once more. If only it would be so...

 

His wait seemed to indeed not be as long as, within another three decades, he found himself freed. He was sitting within his cell when the sounds of talking mingled with footsteps down the stairwell. Standing and prowling through his cell, he growled in warning as he heard a man’s voice mixing with a female’s voice. He sat back, crouching as he watched the shadows that moved outside of his cell door through the tiny window. His ears pricked forward as he heard a soft call. “My Lord? Tis I, Míriel.”

 

Purring in understanding, he sat and waited for the door to open before his visitors appeared. He straightened in surprise and growled in question as he saw an older man enter in with the Queen. Yet he did not feel threatened as he saw the gentle wisdom within the soft grey eyes. He recognized the touch of Tuor’s line within the Man before him as they came into the room. Míriel approached cautiously and knelt before Ecthelion before reaching a hand up to run through the soft fur that covered the large head. Ecthelion leaned into the touch as he purred louder in approval, earning an unladylike giggle from the Queen and a smile from the man. Míriel smiled as she gazed into his golden eyes. “My Lord...this is Elendil. He will be taking you from here. The time is now...my husband is away on a foolhardy journey to try and find Aman and confront the Valar at the behest of Annatar. You must escape with Elendil and his kin before Númenor is lost due to his arrogance,” she said softly as she brushed her fingers through his fur.

 

Elendil knelt near them, frowning as he gazed at his Queen and kinswoman. “My Lady, were you not going to accompany us?” he asked softly, echoed with a questioning rumble from Ecthelion as he watched the two humans.

 

“Nay, I can not. Annatar has gained too much power and I must stall and distract him while you and your family escape. But especially so that our friend here can also escape without notice. Annatar is sidetracked with his bid to try and control the many peons of the court. Our friend should be able to escape,” she answered with a firm smile before leaning in and pressing a kiss to Ecthelion’s bowed head. “We must go quickly. The guards are loyal to me and will help us. We must away. Elendil, those robes...please bring them,” she whispered in command as she looked up at her friend and kinsman.

 

“Aye, I will return shortly,” Elendil replied with a bow of his head before leaving the cell to retrieve the clothes he had left in the hall.

 

Returning her gaze to the panther, the Queen watched as he transformed into his Elven form. She gasped in surprise as he enfolded her into his arms, holding her close in both gratitude and comfort. “Hannon le, Hirilen,” he whispered in a choked voice, all but trembling with the emotions that beset him suddenly. He looked up as he heard a gasp and saw Elendil staring at him in shock. He smiled weakly at the shaken man and nodded. “Aye, I am an Elf, Elendil. My thanks for aiding my escape,” he said in answer to the question within the shocked gaze.

 

“It is an honor to aid our kin,” Elendil replied as he bowed his head before coming forward with the requested clothing. He and the Queen smiled as a tear rolled down Ecthelion’s cheek while he pulled on the elegant robes. “They fit you well, my Lord,” he murmured as the Elf stood to be sure they fell evenly down his body.

 

“I thank you both for this kindness. It has been many centuries since I have dressed as an Elf and not as an animal,” Ecthelion whispered huskily as he brushed a shaking hand along the silken robes that clothed him. He gazed at them tearfully as a smile caressed his lips. “I owe you both for this. I pledge to protect you and your kin with everything in me if I can,” he declared as he knelt and took both their hands.

 

“You are responsible for our own kinsmen surviving the Fall of Gondolin. This should be considered an equaling of debts, my Lord Ecthelion,” Míriel responded before hugging him again as Elendil stared at them in surprise.

 

“Would that I felt so honored, but for all I have done, I fear that my debt is far worse and shall indeed take much to be redeemed,” Ecthelion retorted softly, but smiled at her as they released the other. “Even still, you have my eternal gratitude.”

 

“We must not tarry any longer,” Míriel said before standing with them. She led the way out with Ecthelion between them as they went up the stairs and along the halls to a passageway that seemed little used. Moving swiftly down the passageway, they hurried to the outside and proceeded to the far eastern wharf, where two ships awaited their arrival. Elendil went onto the first ship that was awaiting him, greeting his son Anárion with a clasping of arms before they began to prepare to set out.

 

Ecthelion turned and looked out at the city that had been his prison for the past six decades and felt his heart clench as he saw the blackened buildings, fallen walls, and bodies that lay scattered throughout the falling city. He looked up at the stormy clouds and knew that the judgment of the Valar was at hand. He turned to Míriel once more and took her hands. “You must escape with us, my Lady,” he whispered pleadingly. “You deserve to see peace and live.”

 

“Nay, my Lord. I must stay here for, as her Queen, I must protect my land and stay with her to the end,” Míriel replied gently as she held her hands close. She hugged him tightly, sighing as he rubbed her back before they parted. “Go, my Lord, and live for freedom yet again,” she urged him as she released his hands and stepped back.

 

Another tear rolled down Ecthelion’s cheek before he bowed deeply to her and went onto the second ship where Elendil’s eldest son, Isildur, awaited him anxiously. The wind picked up around them, tossing the water into a blackening frenzy as they set sail, using the wind to hurry their escape from the doomed land of Númenor. Ecthelion stayed on the prow the entire time, watching the form of Míriel, Ar-Zimraphel of Númenor disappear into the distance. Later in the day, they saw the rising wall of water that rose up in the distance before it went crashing over the distant terrain of Númenor, swallowing it into the depths of Ossë’s domain under the wrath of the Valar. It was then that Ecthelion felt some breath of freedom as Sauron’s scream echoed in his mind before being silenced.

 

They came to the shores of Middle earth on the edges of that wave and sailed up the Anduin River to the gap between the Nimrais and Ephel Dúath mountains. There, they began to build Minas Anor near the Nimrais and Minas Ithil in direct opposition to Cirith Ungol. Osgiliath was founded around the same time farther up on the river, binding both shores within its powerful walls as it became a thriving city as well as a guardian hold.

 

Leaving their care after a few months, Ecthelion went to Mordor to see what he could do to destroy the evil that he had felt pulsing at the center of Sauron’s power. He went into Barad-dúr, searching for the Ring that he had seen on Sauron’s finger time and again, knowing it was the secret to his ‘master’s’ power.

 

But it was a mistake that he regretted almost immediately as he suddenly felt the strength of Sauron grow around him, sending him to the floor in a writhing frenzy of pain as the howl of Sauron’s spirit filled the realm. He looked up blindly and could only watch as a shadowy figure appeared before him, seething with malice and hatred before blinding pain overtook him again. He collapsed as soon as he was released, gasping in agony as his body shook with tremors of pain that still shot through him.

 

“Did you think yourself free, Ecthelion?” Sauron’s voice hissed around the room as the Ring that he had created floated up into the shadow, gleaming golden with power and causing the shadow to coalesce into a more solid form. A glowing red shone from where the eyes of Sauron were to be as they focused on the shaking Elf. “Enjoy your brief interlude of freedom, Ecthelion?” he asked lightly in evil amusement as he became even more solid, yet not at all like he had been, for his form that had so entranced those he had controlled was now gone, destroyed by the power of the Valar’s wrath and by his own evil.

 

Managing to push himself up, Ecthelion glared in hatred at his keeper. “You have lost your form to conquer, Sauron. It will not be long before your reign will end with your destruction. I relish that day’s arrival,” he snarled as he bared his teeth while standing defiantly. He cried out in pain as he was hit with more of Sauron’s rage, but remained standing as he held his middle with his shaking arms.

 

“Your defiance has returned, Ecthelion of Gondolin. But it will not save you. For if I am defeated, you shall know my true strength and know only suffering,” Sauron replied jeeringly before his laughter echoed around the room, freezing Ecthelion’s heart with the fear that welled up within him. Ecthelion could only hope that he would be killed before he was forced to face that fate.

 

TBC

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**  
  
{Imladris, Lairë 3430 SA (approx. mid June)}

 

The click of boot heels on the marble floor that ran through the halls of Imladris echoed along the stone walls as Glorfindel, Seneschal of Imladris, strode down to the meeting hall where Elrond, Ereinion Gil-galad, and Erestor were in conference with Celeborn, Galadriel, Amdír and his son Amroth, and Oropher and his son Thranduil. He walked in briskly, stopping to bow to the assembled Lords and Lady before announcing, “King Elendil and his sons Isildur and Anárion have arrived. They will join us shortly.”

 

“Thank you, Lord Glorfindel,” Elrond replied with a smile and a bow of his head, speaking as the host of the group gathered while he was mirrored around the table by his fellows as Glorfindel went to his place between Oropher and Erestor. Looking around the table at his comrades, Elrond sighed heavily. “We should await their arrival before continuing our discussions. Erestor, please also summon Durin and his Captains so that they might join in our decision,” he ordered quietly, nodding as Erestor rose immediately to fulfill his order, returning quietly after sending Lindir and Melpomaen to fetch the Dwarves and direct the Men to where they were meeting.

 

“Why must we wait for those lesser beings? We can make our decision and command them to aid us. It is in their best interests either way. Sauron *must* be defeated! He grows with power each day, especially after taken Minas Ithil!” Oropher declared heatedly as his fist crashed onto the table, startling some of the gathered. He glared at the passive Elves around him as they in turn watched him. “Do we now rely on such people as the Edain and the Naugrim?” (Dwarves) he asked in disgust.

 

“They have been our allies in our battles against Morgoth and his ilk for centuries. We do them wrong to think of them as lesser folks,” Ereinion replied in disapproval as he stared down the haughty Greenwood King.

 

Sneering, Oropher glared at the High King. “Only a Noldor would claim those things and forget that we are the First Born,” he stated lowly.

 

“Ada, you shame our land with your closed mind and pride,” Thranduil rebuked his father quietly, his voice hard with displeasure as he gazed at his father. Oropher shot him a glare but stayed quiet, much to the approval of the rest of the Elves.

 

The tense air within the hall was broken as the door opened and Lindir entered, followed by six Men. The Man in the front came forward, his graying head crowned with a gold and silver circlet as it bowed in greeting to the gathered Elven Lords as they stood and bowed in return. “My Lords and Lady, it is an honor to be here to speak with you on an alliance. These are my sons Isildur and Anárion,” he started while gesturing to both of the Men as they came forward. He then smiled as the other three Men bowed deeply. “And these are my grandsons: Elendur, Aratan, and Ciryon, who are the captains of our troops.”

 

“It is our honor to have our brethren here in these dark times,” Ereinion replied as he stepped down to clasp hands with Elendil in greeting. “Our hearts are joyous that you and yours made it safely from the fall of Númenor,” he added warmly.

 

“It grieves us that we could not have been more successful or that we have lost one of yours whom we managed to free from Sauron’s hold while there,” Anárion said softly as they all took their seats at the long table.

 

Stunned silence fell over the gathered as they stared at the suddenly confused youngest son of Elendil. “What did you say?” Glorfindel whispered finally as he sat forward in his seat to stare down at the Men.

 

“An Elf had been captive to Sauron while on Númenor and we managed to free him with the aid of Ar-Zimraphel. But about half a year after our landing on the Anduin’s shores and our founding of the cities that are now known as Minas Tirith and Minas Morgul, he disappeared and we have not known his fate since,” Isildur explained quietly as he gazed at the Elven Lords there.

 

“Do you know his name?” Elrond asked quietly as they digested the sorrowful news of their kin.

 

“We knew only that he was called among those who are now perished as well as by himself as Agarwaen ‘uruthos, though he was of far nobler blood, of that we are certain of,” (Bloodstained Death horror) Isildur replied softly as he sighed quietly. “It was hard to understand how someone such as he, who was so gentle and caring, could ever claim such a name,” he added sadly as he gazed down at his folded hands.

 

“It is a sad thing indeed to hear of one of our own. Our hope shall be that we shall free him soon,” Celeborn said gently as he looked around at the table. All of the gathered nodded in agreement as they sat back somberly in their chairs.

 

Erestor however noticed that there was a shade of knowledge within Elendil’s eyes and wondered on it. Since the King kept silent as the arrival of the Dwarves broke into the solemn air, Erestor decided that he would speak privately with the noble King. He had a bad feeling that there was more to the story than had been shared.

 

Once the Dwarves were settled in, the meeting began in earnest. However, it was not a smooth convention as tempers flared and insults flew, usually from the Dwarves and Oropher. Elrond, Celeborn, and Thranduil as well as Erestor and Glorfindel were at their strongest as they worked to control the tempers and keep the topic inline to their goals. Elendil, Durin, and Gil-galad listened to all offered ideas, giving their own suggestions as they strove to direct the allies towards a mutual understanding of the problem that was Sauron and his dark horde.

 

By the evening bell, they had grown closer to an alliance that made everyone happy, yet there were still many problems and disagreements. They parted for the festivities that would be occurring that night within their hosts’ Halls, both pleased and discouraged at the progress. Erestor, moving quietly through the departing group, caught up with Elendil and touched his shoulder. “My Lord, may I speak with you alone?” he asked softly after bowing his head in greeting when the King turned in curiosity at the touch.

 

“Of course, Master Erestor. Please, lead the way,” Elendil replied warmly and then nodded to his kin in dismissal before following the Peredhel into the nearby library. Once the door was closed behind them, he faced the Advisor in silent expectation as the dark haired Elf turned to him. “What is it you wish to speak with me on, Master Erestor?” he queried as he tilted his head.

 

Taking a deep breath, Erestor came closer to the King and said, “My Lord, it seemed that when we spoke about the Elf that was with you from Númenor, you knew something that was not shared with the rest. Will you tell me what it is?”

 

Frowning sadly, Elendil turned away as a quiet sigh left him to fill the silence that fell between them. He stepped a couple of feet away and crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes sad. “I have never told anyone his identity at his request. His shame is great, Master Erestor. And he aided us in the small amount of time that he was with us, though I do not think it eased his heart,” he replied after a moment of silence. He turned back to Erestor slowly, his eyes shadowed with his knowledge. “I will reveal his name, Master Erestor, but I must ask that you take it into confidence as he had asked it of me. Never have I told anyone, though it creates a heaviness in my heart that he has so renounced himself. His name is Ecthelion,” he finally said softly, bowing his head in respect to the Elf he named.

 

Clenching a hand in his tunic, Erestor gritted his teeth on the sudden tears that came to his eyes. He turned away, swaying slightly before steadying himself against the wall. “Then it is as I feared...my kinsman...my kinsman is the panther beast...” he whispered hoarsely as a tear rolled down his face.

 

“Aye, Master Elf...he was and perhaps still is the panther that has been forced to destroy so many people,” Elendil agreed sorrowfully as he watched the Advisor sadly. “My condolences on your sorrow. I did not know he was kin to you beyond being an Elf.”

 

“Not many know, for my father died when I was just before my majority and my mother died the natural death of the Second Born,” Erestor responded thickly as he straightened and wiped his face of the few tears he had shed in grief at the news. His suspicions had indeed been confirmed and strongly so. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply before looking over at Elendil. “Is there anything that might indicate what might have happened?” he asked as he regained control of his emotions and faced the King.

 

“The last that we saw of him was eleven decades ago when he went into Mordor in search of what he said was the source of Sauron’s power. It was almost as if he knew that there was still some essence of Sauron. Not long after he left, there was an upheaval of power that came from that forsaken place. And then, about three decades ago we became aware of Sauron’s presence once more and knew what had happened. Then last year we lost Minas Ithil and darkness has begun to set over our lands again,” he answered solemnly as he looked into the distance, lost in his memories. “We have heard within the last decade of men dying from their throats being ripped from their bodies by a deadly shadow and I feared that it might be Lord Ecthelion, but there was no concrete evidence to state either way,” he added as he came back to the present and faced Erestor.

 

Nodding in understanding, Erestor took another deep breath as he straightened himself, smiling reassuringly at the concerned monarch. “I thank you, my Lord. I will not betray your confidence. I hope that, with the defeat of Sauron, I might be able to find my kinsman and aid him,” he said warmly as he bowed his head.

 

“I pray that you will, my friend. I shall aid you as best I can if I survive this battle to free Middle earth,” Elendil replied just as warmly before they clasped hands in agreement. Turning, they left the room to prepare for the feast that night.

 

Erestor did indeed shove the thoughts of his kinsman out of his mind as they prepared for the final battles that were to come. Within in a week, an Alliance of Men, Elves, and Dwarves came into being and all monarchs returned to their lands to prepare their armies to meet on the Pelennor Fields as soon as they were able. Many Elves, Dwarves, and Men gathered from all of the realms under the banners of Ereinion Gil-galad, Elendil, and Durin and by the year 3434 of the Second Age, they moved towards the Dagorlad before the gate of Mordor.

 

Unfortunately there was dissension among the ranks, mainly from Oropher, who bucked the rule of Gil-galad fiercely in his pride. It led to his downfall and the deaths of two thirds of his army as well as the deaths of Amdír and many of the Silvan Elves from Lórien when he went before the main troops in a charge across the Dead Marshes. Many were lost within the fetid bogs along with the Orcs they fought, but it had also been enough to force the Last Alliance towards Dagorlad.

 

In a rousing victory that cost them heavily, they managed to defeat Sauron, sending him in retreat into Mordor. With this victory, they laid siege to the dark lands for the following seven years. But, as the time grew near, restlessness also grew within the ranks as well as fear. They knew they had to defeat the Dark Lord, but would it be enough? All prayed it would be as the last battle came to them.

 

*~*~*

 

Ecthelion watched the battle that was being waged outside of Barad-dúr, his heart soaring with hope as he saw his kin and the Last Alliance beat back the hordes of Mordor unto the heated plains before Barad-dúr. He turned and sneered at the armored visage that stormed into the room he had been kept in since his return by Sauron, his triumph bright in his eyes as he gazed at the enraged Maiar. “Your end is coming, Sauron,” he taunted nastily, laughing as Sauron snarled and grabbed him around the throat, seeking to cut off his glee.

 

“You are not free yet, Elf. You will serve me and fight now!” Sauron growled as he threw Ecthelion to the ground, all but seething with his rage and power.

 

Laughing hoarsely as he held his throat, Ecthelion struggled to sit up as he turned his defiant gaze up to the one had been his tormentor for centuries. “I will not! I will defy you until the last breath leaves my body! I will never betray them again!” he cried heatedly as he finally managed to stand. He choked as he was slapped with a jagged iron fist and sent flying into another wall, where he slid down in a daze, blood and bruising spreading along one side of his face. He smirked though as he stood again, keeping a hand to his broken face as he faced the furious Dark Lord. “Your end is near,” he whispered harshly before gasping as pain flared through him like an inferno.

 

As he collapsed to his knees, Sauron loomed over him. “I will leave what little strength is in you so you may watch as I destroy your pitiful kin and saviors,” he hissed out before releasing Ecthelion and striding out of the room.

 

With a groan, Ecthelion managed to drag himself to the window to watch the battle as Sauron took the field. His defiance turned to despair as he saw that, with each stroke that Sauron dealt, dozens of soldiers died. He cried out in despair as he saw the flashing death of Ereinion Gil-galad as he attacked the Dark Lord, then wept as Elendil fell next with a sweep of Sauron’s blade. But his tears stilled themselves as, with an anguished scream, Isildur took up the broken blade of his father and cut off the fingers of Sauron...including the one that held the One Ring and Sauron’s power.

 

His joy flew to unknowing heights as Sauron’s shrieks of agony rolled throughout the molten fields of Mordor before his power blasted out in a dark wave, knocking over many and destroying the foundations of the tower that had been Ecthelion's prison for centuries. As he felt the tower crumble around him, Ecthelion smiled in relief. His plight was finally at an end.

 

But somehow, he escaped death yet again as he fell with the tower and through the window that he had been watching the battle from. He rolled and missed being crushed several times by debris from the shattered tower, though he was pinned finally by a large chunk. He lay underneath the stone and gazed up at the clearing sky, feeling tears of relief roll down his face as he felt his spirit rise in its bid for freedom, finally able to breath after being in the stench of Sauron’s hold for so many centuries. He fell into unconsciousness as he heard the battle continue around him, though he knew it was waning. The defeat of Sauron was decisive. And now he hoped that he could finally live in peace once he was free to roam.

 

He was woken an uncertain amount of time later by a gentle touch to his face. His eyes fluttered open weakly and he looked up into the soot and tear stained face of Isildur. He opened his mouth to speak, but was stopped by a gentle smile from the Man. “Do not speak, old friend. We had thought you dead. Wait here...I shall find help to free you,” Isildur whispered soothingly and Ecthelion blinked in understanding as he rested. Isildur stood swiftly and called for aid before returning to his side. He took Ecthelion’s hand and held it steadily as he waited for help. “You are free now. Can we know your name now?” he asked softly as he looked into the Elf Lord’s eyes.

 

But Ecthelion did not get a chance to answer as several figures rushed over: Elendur, Ciryon, Haldir of Lórien, and Erestor. Erestor gasped loudly as he immediately knelt next to Isildur and Ecthelion to take Ecthelion’s hand. “Ecthelion! You are him I know it! You are alive!” he whispered in joy as tears rolled down his face, shocking those who were gathered. He looked up at them and ordered, “We must free him quickly! This debris must be moved!”

 

With nods of agreement while another soldier was sent to find Elrond, the three Men and Haldir worked to lift the block of stone off of Ecthelion while Erestor kept his gaze locked with Ecthelion’s in an effort to comfort and give him support. Ecthelion cried out once at the beginning as pain ratcheted through him from their efforts, but he found that he preferred that pain to all the pain he had endured at Sauron’s hand. Once free, they carefully carried him to where the makeshift medical tents were set up on the Dagorlad. They were met by Elrond, who immediately took Ecthelion into a nearby tent. He ordered Haldir to find Glorfindel as he set to work healing Ecthelion’s wounds.

 

However, with that order Ecthelion finally was able to dredge up enough strength to protest, demanding hoarsely that Glorfindel not be shown in. They acquiesced reluctantly to his request and started on tending to his injuries by Elrond. He started weeping weakly as he was held steady by Erestor and Isildur while his wounds were set, since he was suffering from a broken leg, three broken ribs, and a broken arm. He managed to stay conscious through it all and was washed down gently by Erestor as soon as Elrond left to check on the many others who were injured. Isildur sat next to them and, once Erestor had finished, told the Advisor to go and aid Elrond. Nodding in agreement before giving a last clasp to Ecthelion’s hand, Erestor left to help with the many wounded, leaving the two alone.

 

Looking into the Man’s eyes, Ecthelion felt worry through him as he sensed a dark power within the Man. Isildur gazed at him steadily and smiled sadly as he took Ecthelion’s hand into his. “So, the mask is finally lifted and revealed is a famous Elf Lord. Never had I dreamed that such a tale would be brought back to life to fight by our side and to be so close to our family,” he whispered softly, soothingly as he smiled.

 

Clearing his throat and sighing as he shifted, Ecthelion’s smile was bitter and sad as it answered Isildur’s. “My curse is not something to be proud of, Isildur. I am sorry for your loss this day,” he answered quietly after a bit, but then stopped as the darkness welled up once more around the Man. “Isildur...what have you done?” he asked suddenly as he stared at the King.

 

Swallowing hard, Isildur moved one of his hands to his chain mail and pulled out a chain with a glittering ring on it. “I have the weapon of the Enemy. With this, I can bring peace to my people at last,” he stated quietly as his eyes focused on the shining Ring.

 

Eyes widening in fear, Ecthelion trembled as he shook his head. “Destroy it...destroy it now before it consumes you I beg you!” he pleaded suddenly as he trembled violently. He could feel it now. Sauron was not dead but alive within the Ring! “Isildur! Do not let this battle be in vain! Destroy it!” he begged as he tried to sit up, but fell back down with a cry that was near to a sob.

 

Concerned, Isildur hid the Ring once more under his tunic and leaned forward, helping Ecthelion into a more comfortable position. “Destroy it? But Ecthelion...with this power I can help my people and protect them,” he reasoned gently as if with a child.

 

“It will destroy you before you can do any good for your people!” Ecthelion spat out hoarsely as he wept openly, his shaking now so fierce that he was gripping Isildur’s hand spastically. “I beg of you, Isildur...destroy it or you will fall into darkness,” he whispered as he held Isildur’s hand within both of his.

 

Stunned at the sincerity, Isildur nodded mutely, and then watched in concern as Ecthelion all but collapsed in relief. He adjusted the blankets on the pale frame and said, “Rest, mellonen...you will need the sleep that is coming for your future and to heal.” (my friend)

 

Smiling warmly as reverie overtook him, Ecthelion nodded and fell into an exhausted sleep. Isildur watched him for a few minutes before standing and leaving the tent. He needed to discuss these turn of events with his son Elendur.

 

A few hours later though, Ecthelion awoke, feeling very restless and afraid. He needed to escape! He left the bed easily, his wounds healed already from the sleep and his changed body that healed quicker than normal Elves. Transforming, he snuck from the tent and crept towards the Morannon through the camp, dodging various soldiers in his effort to escape from them. He came to the mountains and passed in their shadow until he arrived at the forests of Ithilien. There, he went south until he came to Cair Andros and crossed over, heading west. He needed to go to Fangorn...to where he felt at peace.

 

He traveled a night and a day until he came to the ancient forest. Once there, he went inside, transforming into his Elven form as he felt the peace wash over him in welcome. He looked around, and then stopped as he heard some rustling and growling near him. He arrived at a glade and found within it a small group of panthers lying around a sparkling pond. He stopped and stared as they stood and faced him warily, but what caught his eye was the obvious leader.

 

It was a fairly large panther as it stalked forward and Ecthelion felt his heart well up in hope, for he knew at that moment that it was his friend. He fell to his knees before the panther and laughed in joy as he bounded forward to nuzzle and lick the Elf’s face in happiness. Ecthelion threw his arms around his friend and they stood close, happy to be reunited at last with his cat friend. For Ecthelion understood now that he had not been the only one changed so long ago. On that night when he had been given his potion, his soul and body had been linked to the panther from which the fur had come from, giving the panther in turn long life and health. And now he knew that he could finally live in peace.

 

TBC

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**  
  
{Fangorn, the Gladden Fields, and Lothlórien, Ender days, 2 TA (approx. beg. October)}

 

Time seemed to pass slowly after the defeat of Sauron and the end of the Last Alliance of Men and Elves, but none of it mattered to Ecthelion as he stayed within Fangorn Forest with his friend...his kin. They roamed the forest, hunting when they needed to for survival, and running throughout the tangled weave of trees in both joy and freedom. But his heart was still troubled and heavy at night when he gazed up at the stars and moon. At times they would gather with the other panthers for mating season, but he never participated, though his instincts urged him to. His friend never questioned him on it, seeming to understand what was within Ecthelion’s heart already, even for a creature of the forests.

 

But his blissful time was not to last. On a gentle fall day, he and his friend were stalking through the trees in enjoyment of the day when they stopped as a strange rustling brushed within the trees. Tilting their heads as they listened to the trees speaking, they learned that a large band of Orcs were stalking after a small band of Men, among them were Isildur and his three sons. Stunned and dismayed, Ecthelion raised his head and roared in challenge before looking at his friend. The other panther nodded and roared as well, joined by Ecthelion so that their calls echoed through the forest. Within a few minutes, several of their comrades had arrived, roaring in greeting as they came into the forested pathway. They nuzzled each other in welcome as they arrived, then settled down to await the directions that were to come for such a calling.

 

Ecthelion also waited, and then blinked in surprise as his friend, who was the relative leader of their spread out group, looked over at him in expectation as he sat lower to Ecthelion. Bowing his head at the honor, Ecthelion returned his gaze to the rest of the group, sensing their acceptance of the change of leadership. He growled and snarled, explaining the situation, then stood and led the way from the forest at a swift pace, followed by his fellows as they journeyed swiftly towards the Gladden Fields, where the forest spoke of the conflict that was sure to come there. The humans were not expecting an attack...they had to hurry!

 

Yet their pace was not fast enough as they came to the Fields and found that the battle had already nearly finished fatally. With a roar, he led the charge in and they began taking down the foul beasts of Mordor, slashing, ripping, and tearing the rotten flesh as they killed all who attacked the Men of Gondor. He worked through the battling group until he came near the center where a large dense group was working to take down three Men. He snarled in rage as he recognized Isildur and Elendur, with the third Man being Aratan, and attacked fiercely.

 

But he could not stop the murder of Aratan, who fell while protecting his brother Ciryon’s body from the blood thirsty Orcs. However, he was able to kill off the remaining Orcs that surrounded the other two of Elendil’s line. He stopped, panting as he stalked towards the two, then transformed, smiling in relief through his blood stained state as he saw them smile in joy at him. “Quickly, you must escape!” he whispered gutturally, for he had not spoken in a few years.

 

He looked around and saw that his friends had survived, though many were hurt. He snarled an order at the panthers, growling when his friend snarled an alarmed reply before kneeling before his friend. He hugged the panther, purring before leaning back and nodding. He received the lick from his friend in farewell before the rest of the group left, leaving just Ecthelion, Isildur, and Elendur. Standing, he faced his human friends and nodded. “There is another group coming this way. My friends will do what they can, but they are injured and will escape to safety. As must you,” he stated quietly as he came over to them, clasping arms with them in greeting.

 

“But what of you, Ecthelion? Surely you will come with us?” Elendur asked softly as he was held up by his father. He had sustained a stab to the side, but it was fairly shallow and only hindered him slightly.

 

“Nay, I will return to my fellows, but I came to fulfill my oath to you and your kin,” Ecthelion replied gently as he knelt and checked Elendur’s wound. He tilted his head and looked over his shoulder as the sounds of Orcs fighting floated over towards them. He stood again and stepped away slightly. “You must go now...they will come for you-“ He stopped suddenly and turned back to them, eyes wide with horror as they focused on Isildur. “You did not listen...I told you to destroy it!” he cried, shaking suddenly with sick realization and anger.

 

Bowing his head in sorrow, Isildur nodded sadly and sighed. “I know you did, my friend. But I could not give it up. I am afraid that it is going to indeed be the death of me,” he whispered hoarsely.

 

“Father, do not speak so! Put on the Ring and escape while you can! Ecthelion and I shall hold off these Orcs and join you later!” Elendur urged his father as he straightened and stood on his own.

 

“Nay I could not do that! I will not lose you as I have lost Ciryon and Aratan!” Isildur cried in despair as he held his son to him, shaken by the assuredness that his son spoke to him of their fate.

 

“If you die, then their deaths were worth nothing. You must take the Ring to Elrond so that it can be made safe!” Elendur replied softly as he hugged his father tightly to him before stepping back. Ecthelion watched them in despair, knowing that what they were doing was indeed the wrong path to take, but he could not stop them. For as in all Men, pride was a downfall.

 

With a nod, Isildur clasped arms with his son and then Ecthelion before turning just as another group of Orcs straggled into the Fields. He swiftly dodged away as Ecthelion took up a sword and stood alongside Elendur’s side, ready to fight. They fought swiftly and assuredly, yet Elendur was injured and faltered as he grew weary. Ecthelion changed into his panther form and protected him as best he could, but it was a losing battle. Before his own eyes, he could only watch as Elendur was run through by a snarling Orc. He leapt to the attack, ripping the Orc’s head off before finishing off the remaining Orcs. He then ran to Elendur’s side, transforming again as he skidded to a stop near the fallen Man. Kneeling, he gathered the limp body to him as he fought his tears. “Elendur...you can not die...” he whispered tearfully as he brushed his hand over the pale face.

 

Opening his eyes slowly, Elendur smiled weakly at the Elf as he tried to breathe through the blood filling his lungs. “My...youngest...brother....Valandil...is in...Imladris....” he managed after a bit, his voice husky and rough from his pain. He closed his eyes as he worked for both breath and strength before opening them again to focus on Ecthelion. “We...were...going to...fetch him. He...is...the last...” He gasped for air as he arched slightly in pain, trembling within the Elf Lord’s arms as his hand came up to clasp the strong shoulder under it. “Tell...him that I...wanted...to meet...him...” he whispered before the last of his breath left his body along with his spirit.

 

“Elendur...” Ecthelion whispered tremulously as he shook the Man before sobbing. “ELENDUR!!” he wailed as he held the fallen Man to him tightly, crying in anguish at the loss of the eldest son of Isildur. He wept quietly as he rocked the corpse before looking over through his tears at the sounds of the arrival of more Orcs, though they sounded to be few in number. With a white rage filling him, he placed the body of his dead friend on the ground and stood, roaring his fury and anguish before transforming and charging at the incoming troops, tearing, slashing, and ripping into them as his grief overcame him.

 

But his luck could not last against such odds and, as he came to the last ones, he felt a searing pain rip through his shoulders. Reacting, he turned and slashed through the Orc who had thrust the poison covered blade into his back. He finished the last couple of Orcs before collapsing to his side. He transformed and pulled the blade from his shoulders, gasping in pain as he tossed it aside. He struggled to stand, then transformed again and started off away from the fields. He came to the edge of the Anduin and felt his heart clench as he saw the body of Isildur float away, pierced by many arrows. He roared his anguish to the sky as he wept in sorrow before he started away from the river, heading south.

 

As the day went on, he began to feel weaker as the poison burned through him. He changed into his Elven form and staggered along the edge of the Anduin until he came into sight of a forest. His heart stilled with joy and peace as he sensed the kindred spirits within. He had come to an Elven realm, of that he was certain. But his strength failed him and, on the outskirts of the sanctuary, he collapsed onto the grass, his hand reaching for the safety of the forest as he fell unconscious.

 

He was woken roughly as he was lifted and groaned deeply as the unexpected movement of his wound shot burning pain through his body. He was shushed with a gentle hand to his face as he was placed onto something that felt like a stretcher before he was lifted again. He opened his eyes weakly and looked around barely, smiling as he saw the gold and silver hair of the Silvan Elves of Lothlórien.  His hand was gathered soothingly into another pair of callused hands and he focused on the warden that came into view. He blinked as he recognized one of his saviors from Mordor. He struggled to remember the name...Halin...Haldo... “Haldir...” he finally managed barely, shaking with his pain and fatigue just from the simple word.

 

Smiling in relief and greeting, the warden nodded. “You remember me well, Lord Ecthelion. Do not worry...we shall protect you here. You are safe now,” he murmured soothingly as they walked along.

 

“Safe...safe...” Ecthelion mumbled before falling unconscious yet again, too weak to stay conscious through his pain. The next time he woke he found himself within a bed, dressed in a simple white night shirt as pale sunshine shone onto the bed that he was laying within. He looked around blearily, confused, but soon came eye to eye with a set of gentle blue orbs that watched him with kindness and concern from within the young face of an Elleth, whose silver hair shone in the sunlight around her slender pale frame. He shifted and grimaced in pain as his wound flared up once more, causing him to clutch his shoulder in pain as he cried out.

 

Moving in instantly, the Elleth was by his side and holding him still. “Hush, hush...you must remain still. You are safe here in Lothlórien, my Lord,” she urged him softly, smiling as he gazed at her with pain-filled blue grey eyes.

 

“I am no Lord...” he gasped out, biting his lip on his pain as he tried to relax into the soft bedding. He was finally able to calm his flaring nerves and rested in the bed, panting softly in his pain. He opened his weary eyes to focus on her concerned face again, swallowing hard in his fatigue.

 

“You are Ecthelion. Haldir told us. Your wound is very deep and it was filled with poison. We have summoned Elrond to come and aid us in treating your wound,” she answered him as she took a cool wet cloth and wiped his forehead of the sweat that was beading there.

 

“Better I die for all I have done,” Ecthelion retorted in a choked voice as he worked to still his trembling. He looked down at the edge of his bed and would have wept if his guilt had not been so smothering. He was finally in an Elven realm, a home to his kin, and yet he now felt a danger and a curse upon the people whom he would call his brethren. His eyes had closed tiredly before he opened them again to look up at the ceiling. He blinked as a soft touch came to his face, turning his face towards the saddened Elleth. “Why do you let me live? I have killed so many...I am a danger to you and all those I was once kin to,” he whispered as sudden tears welled up in his eyes to roll down his face.

 

She brushed them away tenderly as she smiled gently at him. “It is time that the past be laid to rest and forgiven. Do you not think so?” she asked softly as she tilted her head. He closed his eyes and whimpered, then leaned into her warmth as she hugged him tenderly, soothing away his despair with her gentleness. He relaxed and was eased back onto the pillows, then looked over as another two Elves entered into the room.

 

The Elleth stood and smiled at the two before looking at Ecthelion. “Ecthelion, these are my parents. Galadriel and Celeborn...they have come to see how you are doing,” she said warmly as a smile dimpled her cheeks.

 

“Our daughter has not left your side since you arrived to us two days ago so injured. She has learned much from her betrothed, Elrond Eärendilion, in healing and so has tried her best to aid your healing,” Celeborn stated as he came over and sat near the bedded Elf. “How are you feeling, Ecthelion?” he asked softly as his soft blue eyes searched Ecthelion’s own shadowed grey blue.

 

“Why did you let me live?” Ecthelion responded very quietly instead, avoiding the question put to him. “You know what I am.”

 

“You were an unwilling servant of Sauron the deceiver, this we know now at Haldir’s allusion from when they saved you from the ruins of Barad-dúr. But you no longer serve him,” Galadriel in turn replied as she stood beside her daughter. She gazed at him kindly, her very aura kind yet powerful.

 

“You do not know that...I do not even know that. I had thought myself free once before and he returned and made me kill yet again,” Ecthelion said bitterly as he looked away once more, closing his eyes.

 

“Your pain is our pain, Ecthelion. In time, you will see that your kin have always been ready to aid you from the shadows,” Celeborn stated warmly as he cupped Ecthelion’s hand briefly. He stood as Ecthelion opened his eyes and turned his gaze to him. “Elrond and his party will be here within a few days, for they have hurried as fast as possible once we sent word of your plight. We shall try to ease your suffering as best we can until that time, for Elrond is very skilled in healing,” he explained with an encouraging smile. “Do not give up hope, Lord Ecthelion. We shall always be there to aide you in this time.”

 

Eyes softening with tears once more, Ecthelion raised his hand and held the hand that clasped it. “My heart is much eased by your words. I thank you for your belief in me and your kindness,” he murmured softly as he searched the kind blue eyes that gazed into his own.

 

Smiling in response, Celeborn nodded as he squeezed the hand he held gently before releasing it and straightening. He offered his arm to his wife before leaving with her, allowing his daughter to stay with the injured Elf. Ecthelion looked over at the Elleth and murmured, “You have not given me your name.”

 

“My name is Celebrían,” she answered with a smile as she sat down once more at his side before reaching for the cool cloth to wipe his forehead yet again. She then grabbed a cup and brought it over. “This tea will help ease your pain for now,” she offered him with a smile while helping him to sip the bitter tea.

 

He made a face, and then smiled weakly as she giggled while she set aside the tea. “You are betrothed to Elrond?” he asked softly and smiled a bit more as she blushed.

 

“Aye. We met a year ago at a festival to honor the dead from the Last Alliance and we...connected,” she answered, blushing more as he grinned. “He is so kind and gentle...” she whispered shyly.

 

“And handsome I am sure,” Ecthelion murmured teasingly, chuckling as she blushed even more before he began coughing. She frowned in worry as she helped him to sit up, and then wiped his lips of the blood he had coughed up with a cloth. “The poison is spreading,” he whispered huskily as he relaxed in exhaustion.

 

“Please hang on, Ecthelion. I know of some who were so worried for you after you left,” she pleaded gently as she wiped his brow yet again before tucking the blanket over his shaking frame.

 

“I have no one, Celebrían. No one,” Ecthelion murmured bleakly before he fell unconscious yet again from his pain and weariness.

 

Saddened by his statement, Celebrían brushed a hand over his deathly pale face. “You have someone...I know you do,” she whispered before sitting back to await his return to the waking. She only hoped that she and the others could break through the wall that he had erected around his heart.

 

TBC

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**  
  
{Lothlórien and Imladris, Quellë 2 TA (approx. beg October)}

 

Pain. Icy pain that turned into fire raced through his veins as Ecthelion fought the poison that was destroying his body. He cried out in delirium, screaming of fire in Gondolin one instant before crying for the Men and Dwarves he had had to kill in his ‘service’ to Sauron. He woke a couple of times but had been so delusional as to be incoherent while weeping for the Elf he had killed that one time in the South Downs. There were several times when he was held down in his pain before finally being drugged into a nightmare filled world where Sauron taunted him and he was stalked by his other self.

 

But soon, it faded as a gentle voice urged him back into the light, the pain lessening slowly as tender hands cooled his feverish brow. After several days of fiery agony, he woke slowly to find that he was cool and lucid, able to see and know people who appeared before him as he woke. He blinked slowly, wetting his eyes carefully as he struggled to break through the healing fog that was in his head. He opened his mouth to speak, but found his mouth like cloth and dry, earning a grimace from him as he worked to swallow down something so he could speak.

 

A gentle hand cupped his face and he looked up into a masculine face that was kind and gentle, yet serious as well. He opened his mouth as he felt a cup touch his lips and cool liquid washed down his dry throat. He moaned happily and swallowed down the soothing fluid greedily until it was pulled away, earning a whimper of protest from him, which in turn elicited a chuckle from his caregiver. He lay back on the pillows and studied the Elf before him, noting the Peredhel ears and the startling resemblance to Eärendil. “You...are...Elrond?” he managed after a few tries, though it was more of a croak and he grimaced yet again.

 

Chuckling slightly, Elrond nodded as he sat back. “I am glad to see that you are recovering, Lord Ecthelion. Many will be relieved, most especially your kinsman Erestor and Lord Glorfindel as well as my betrothed,” he responded warmly, though he frowned slightly as he saw the icy shadow that passed over the Elf Lord’s gaze at the mention of Glorfindel. “How do you feel?” he asked after he shook himself slightly. It was probably nothing...

 

“Tired and...filthy...” Ecthelion replied with a disgusted look as he took time to take stock of his condition. “I am still sore in my shoulders, but nothing more. I thank you,” he added as he looked up at the Half Elf.

 

“No thanks are needed. I am only glad to help one who saved my kin in the fall of Gondolin and who is also so close with two of my closest Advisors,” Elrond responded with a gentle smile. “Though you had me very worried. You were very close to Mandos’ Halls for a while there just after I came.”

 

“Námo has rejected me more times than I can count. It will take far more than an Orc blade to kill me,” Ecthelion stated bitterly as he glared down at his feet. He turned his face away with a sigh. “I still think you should have let me die though,” he murmured quietly.

 

“Because of what you are?” Elrond guessed correctly as he watched the Elf Lord before him. When no answer came forth, he sighed and frowned darkly. “Ecthelion, if I may be frank, you had no control over what hap-“

 

“You do not know what happened, Elrond, so do not try to patronize me!” Ecthelion snarled as he looked over at the Peredhel, his eyes blazing almost ferally. He trembled and looked away. “You could never know and I pray you never do know what I have endured because of what is in my heart,” he whispered hoarsely as his fingers clenched tightly within the sheets of the bed. Suddenly, he wanted to be away from there. He shifted to a sitting position slowly and began to move his legs over so that he could place them on the ground.

 

“Wait...you should not move like this...” Elrond ordered as he stood immediately and went to the other side, stopping Ecthelion. He was shaken off by an angry swipe of the Elf’s hand and a snarl from the pale lips and watched as Ecthelion stood bit by bit, taking his time from the obvious pain that was still within him. “You must stay in bed!” Elrond commanded as he grabbed the stubborn Elf in an effort to push him down again.

 

“Take your hands off of me!!” Ecthelion suddenly screamed as he pushed Elrond away and stumbled to the side, off-balance. He braced himself as Elrond caught himself on the footboard of the bed, and then began moving towards the door. He had to escape! They were after him!

 

Suddenly, a golden haired figure rushed in followed by another dark haired Elf. “Elrond? Is everything all ri-Ecthelion! You must stay in bed!” Glorfindel cried as he strode forward.

 

Snarling, Ecthelion’s eyes glowed golden and slitted as he raised a suddenly clawed hand, startling Glorfindel and Erestor to a halt as he glared balefully at them. “Do not touch me, oath breaker! I am going away from you all now!” Ecthelion growled out in rage as he bared his fangs at his former lover, stunning the Seneschal with his ferocity.

 

“Ecthelion...I did not betray you! Why will you not believe me?!” Glorfindel cried in anguish as he reached for his lover, but stepped back to avoid the slash that was aimed in retaliation.

 

“I know what I saw!” Ecthelion shouted back furiously as tears rolled down his pale cheeks from his golden eyes. “I know what I see now! Stay away from me you faithless oaf! I loved you with everything in me and you betray me not once, but twice now!!” he screamed, his voice rising in his hysterics as he trembled, glaring at Erestor from over Glorfindel’s shoulder.

 

“What are you speaking of?! Twice? I have not betrayed you in this Age!” Glorfindel retorted angrily as he glared at his love.

 

“So you admit to your first betrayal at least,” Ecthelion whispered softly, his voice heartbreakingly quiet as he gazed at Glorfindel. Glorfindel looked away, his cheeks flushed with shame, but he could not deny what had been admitted. Heartbroken yet again, Ecthelion turned away and went towards the other door that was nearby as fast as he could. But a hand with a cloth was pressed over his mouth, startling him. He roared as he fought the strong arm around his waist frantically, panicking with the thought that he was back once more in Mordor and it was Sauron now trying to take him yet again. But slowly, his world darkened and he became limp as the powerful anesthetic kicked in, knocking him out cold. He was carried back to the bed and tucked back in before Elrond silently ordered the other two out with him.

 

Celebrían came into the room and, after a quick look from Elrond, went over to Ecthelion’s bedside. She took his hand and began to watch over him while her betrothed took his advisors to another place to discuss what had happened.

 

They met up with Celeborn on the way out and he led them to a private branch off of his talan where Galadriel was awaiting them patiently. They had heard the disturbance even there and were most put out by it. Once in the room, Glorfindel sank into a chair numbly while Erestor went over to a window to stare out over the forest. Elrond began pacing slowly as the other two rulers sat in their own chairs, watching the three Elves worriedly. Elrond finally stopped and turned on Glorfindel. “What does he mean by the betrayal? What happened?” he demanded angrily, more upset for Ecthelion then his dear friend mainly because Ecthelion was still recovering.

 

Drawing a deep breath, Glorfindel took note that Erestor had also turned to watch him and felt worried by the strangely blank gaze that was in his friend’s eyes. “About three centuries before the loss of Gondolin, Turgon and I...began to have an affair. At the time, I was heavily committed to Ecthelion, and he I, but I never stopped loving him or being committed to him! But, with Turgon, it was like we were complete and we both knew that we had to have Ecthelion with us to do it. But we...put it off. And then, the night we vowed to tell Ecthelion was the night when our lives ended. I...I do not know how he found out, but when we were in Mandos’ Halls, Námo declared that we would not see him because he knew. Then later, I tried to speak to him before he was reborn, but he...cursed me,” he explained in a low voice as he stared down at his hands, feeling the pain of having hurt his lover so much wash over him in sickening waves.

 

“And what is this about Erestor? Why was he so sure that you had betrayed him yet again with his own kinsman?” Elrond asked icily as he glared at his Seneschal, not at all pleased with how his friend had acted.

 

“I have no idea on that Elrond, I swear it! Erestor is my dear friend and I would not ever break that friendship to hurt Ecthelion again!” Glorfindel declared as he stood up, upset in his own right at being so accused.

 

“I think I may know how,” Galadriel said softly, earning their immediate attention as she sat next to her husband. She tilted her head as she stared into the distance and smiled sadly. “Erestor looks very much like Ecthelion, do you not think so?” she said instead after a while of silence.

 

“What does that have to-oh dear...” Elrond stopped in mid-rant as he gazed over at Erestor, eyes wide with understanding.

 

“Explain it to me, if you do not mind,” Glorfindel urged Elrond irritably as he glared at the dismayed Elves.

 

“When he saw us on that night...he must have seen how close you and I had become and thought that, since I look so much like him, he was being replaced,” Erestor answered softly as he gazed at Glorfindel solemnly, seeing the dawning horror in his friend’s eyes as it all clicked together.

 

“That was why he had retreated...” Glorfindel whispered softly as he looked down at his hands yet again in shock. “That was why he had even attacked you...”

 

“There is much darkness within Ecthelion. He is right to say that he is indeed not safe, yet he is far safer than he realizes,” Celeborn said quietly as he looked at them all. He focused on Elrond and tilted an eyebrow delicately. “Will you take him to Imladris and help him break free of the spell? I believe that being around his kinsman will aid him in healing, though he will deny it,” he suggested gently as he smiled over at Erestor.

 

“Aye I will. Erestor, I think you should also visit with Ecthelion and try to establish an understanding so that at least this small misunderstanding can be put to ease,” Elrond proposed as he laced his hands together before his abdomen.

 

Bowing his head in agreement, Erestor smiled back. “I will do so. I have wanted to be with my kinsman for many years now. I hope that our relationship at least will heal,” he answered before going towards the doorway. “I think I shall go now and sit with him so that when he wakes, we can talk while he is still groggy,” he added with a wink, earning some chuckles from the others.

 

Glorfindel continued to stare at his hands in dismay, but then looked up as a gentle hand placed itself on his shoulder. “Elrond, what am I going to do? I love him so much, yet he despises the very sight of me,” he whispered in despair.

 

“Have faith, meldiren. I am sure that we shall find a way for you to finally break through the wall that Ecthelion has around his heart,” (my dear friend) Elrond murmured in reply as he patted the strong shoulder comfortingly. “Come, we must make preparations to leave in a week’s time. I do not wish to tarry here longer than is necessary,” he stated with a grin.

 

“Tiring of your future in laws already?” Celeborn commented dryly as he winked at them before standing with his wife. “I shall assist you, Elrond...Glorfindel. My wife must now attend a meeting with the women,” he stated, earning a giggle from Galadriel.

 

“You should come someday, my husband! I think you would be very good at crocheting!” Galadriel retorted, grinning as Celeborn rolled his eyes while the other two laughed in amusement at their bantering. They all hoped things would work out.

 

*~*~*

 

{A day later, mid-morning, Lothlórien}

 

A soft groan left the throat of Ecthelion as he woke up and found once more that his mouth was drier than a bone and as thick as wool as he tried to focus on where he was. Once again, cool water was offered to him and he greedily drank of it, holding the hand steadying the cup close so he could drink as much as he could, much to the amusement of his helper. He fell back against his pillows and looked up to see that his assistant was none other than his kinsman Erestor. He blinked slowly, still too dazed to think or react as he knew he should, so instead he just asked, “What are you doing here?” Only, since the drug was slurring his words, it sounded more like, “’at a’ youh doin’ ‘ere?”

 

Smiling gently at the dazed Elf, Erestor sat closer and took Ecthelion’s hand into his own carefully. “I have been waiting for you to wake up,” he answered softly, smiling again at the look of confusion that warred with the touch of anger within the blue grey eyes. “We have much to talk about, starting with your misconceptions of me and Glorfindel,” he continued lightly as he stroked the pale hand soothingly.

 

“We have nothing to discuss,” was the short reply as Ecthelion looked away, but the stroking on his hand urged him to return his gaze, as unsteady as it was, back to Erestor.

 

“I know you are angry with Glorfindel and I do not blame you. But please understand...there is nothing romantic between him and me. We are only good friends as well as co-workers for Elrond, that is all,” Erestor retorted gently, drawing on his wells of patience to deal with his stubborn kin. He leaned his head in and caught Ecthelion’s gaze again, smiling. “He has ever had eyes and hopes for you, Ecthelion. All he would ever speak of in love was you. In truth, I did not know what he had done to you until two days ago.” He grinned impishly, surprising Ecthelion. “I must admit to wanting to slap him silly after I heard of what he had done, but I felt you were more important,” he admitted, grinning more as Ecthelion’s eyes sparkled with some hint of amusement as well as tears.

 

Looking away as he became more focused, Ecthelion sighed quietly as he stared out the window. “I still love him, you know. I long for him like the night longs for the day. Yet forever do I see him kissing Turgon while in battle with a tenderness that was always, I thought, for me. But, I would wish for him to save me on the nights that Sauron’s torment was too much for me. And then I would curse him and plan for how I could hurt him in as many ways as possible as he had hurt me,” he whispered softly in confession, stunning Erestor into silence with his words.

 

A gentle touch to his chin caused him to look back towards his kin and he smiled with all the sorrow that was welling up within him in the aftermath of his confession. He was however unprepared for the arms that came up behind him to pull him towards the strong chest of the Advisor. Once berthed within the warm haven in those arms, he felt his resolve crumble and gave into his tears, allowing his pain to pour out in salty wet streaks down his cheeks as Erestor rubbed his back tenderly while rocking him. He felt a gentle calm wash over him after he had spent his tears and he just rested within Erestor’s arms, feeling safe and comforted by the soothing presence. He had not felt so soothed in a long time and he relished it, burying his face in the well-built torso that supported him. He drifted in and out of reverie as they sat as such, exhausted by the emotional upheaval his admission had caused within him.

 

The next time he woke fully, he realized that he was indeed famished. Erestor had some food ordered in, but was surprised when Ecthelion turned away from it. “Is something wrong?” he asked gently as he put aside the tray that had been brought in.

 

“I...I can not eat such foods. I...I...” Ecthelion trailed off miserably as he looked up at Erestor with helpless tears. “I...require raw meat and...only some raw vegetables and water,” he whispered in shame as he looked down at his hands.

 

“Oh...I see. Well, I think we can prepare something for you...” Erestor trailed off as he stood, but stopped as a hand rested on his own. He looked down at his kinsman in worry as the other Elf kept his gaze down.

 

“Let me roam in the forest and hunt. I promise to return, but I...need what is out there. And...I...I do not wish to disgust you,” Ecthelion murmured softly, not even daring to look up at Erestor as he stated the damning decision.

 

“You do not disgust me, but only startled me. It is all right. Shall we go?” Erestor answered calmly as he smiled down at the other Elf before aiding Ecthelion to his feet. They went out of the healing talan that had been Ecthelion’s home for the past couple of weeks and down the stairs before heading out into the dense mallorn forest that surrounded and protected the Elven kingdom.

 

They went deep into the forest before Ecthelion stopped Erestor. “Stay here. I shall return within an hour, I promise,” he commanded softly, smiling at Erestor reassuringly before turning towards the forest. Erestor watched him leave and disappear into the bushes before settling down on a grassy knoll next to a tree. He dozed off in the warm sun in his wait for the return of his kinsman, trusting in Ecthelion to keep his word. After a while, a soft touch to his cheek woke him and he startled awake, looking up into the laughing grey blue eyes of his returned charge. Ecthelion smiled, much more energized than he had been after having eaten, and helped Erestor to his feet. “Hannon le, Erestor. I feel much better now,” (Thank you) Ecthelion whispered in gratitude before they started back to the city.

 

Returning to the healing talan, they went to Ecthelion’s room and sat near the window, sharing tales about their lives, or rather in Ecthelion’s case, his life in Gondolin. But after a while, Ecthelion began to drift off again into sleep and was carried back to bed by Erestor, whom he snuggled up to in his sleep. Erestor, smiling softly as he held his kinsman, felt the warmth of love within him for the other Elf. What he did not know was that this love was more than it should be.

 

TBC

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**  
  
{Lothlórien, Quellë 2 TA (approx. mid October)}

 

A week passed after the reawakening of the Elf Lord Ecthelion and they were surprised with how quickly he healed from his near fatal wound. However, he never allowed Glorfindel near him, a request that, while sorrowful in its ordering, was fulfilled dutifully by Erestor and Elrond. In turn, the anger and hurt that Glorfindel went through because of the cold rebuttal was palpable whenever Erestor or another caught him looking up at the talan that Ecthelion was staying in. But he did nothing more than watch and hope for a chance to explain himself to his beloved.

 

In this time as well, he began to become closer to Erestor in their mutual care for Ecthelion. Erestor knew of Glorfindel’s feelings for his kinsman and sought to ease his mind with conversation and confessions. Glorfindel was most interested in the well-being of his lover, which they shared and discussed and, in many ways, they tried to find a way for healing to be had between the two reborn Lords. Unexpectedly, their friendship deepened because of this, becoming a quiet love and a well of respect for the other.

 

But still in that time, Erestor was the closest to Ecthelion outside of Celebrían, who had also earned the trust of the wary Elf Lord. Her gentle smile soothed his heartache as much as his kinsman’s tender hold and both had helped him to open up about what he had lived through, if only a little. Wary and brooding, Ecthelion kept to himself many times, but would be seen strolling with Erestor in the woods many times or sitting under a tree with Celebrían as they enjoyed the day. His heart was indeed eased in the peaceful calm of Lothlórien, though he was still very edgy. A malice seemed to creep onto the edges of his mind, taunting him with its elusiveness and dark suggestions that made his blood run with the feral side of his personality. But he fought it and was aided unexpectedly by the two Elves that he had close to him.

 

Yet the blissful reprieve within Lothlórien would not last as it came time for the Imladris party to return to their homely vale, bringing with them Ecthelion so that he might heal more. Elrond was certain that the vale would aid Ecthelion in his recovery from all he had been through as well as his physical troubles. He also hoped to work with Ecthelion in healing and destroying the curse that was upon the Elf Lord, breaking any ties that the darkness of Mordor might have on the reborn Elf. Ecthelion was skeptical on it, but refrained from saying so, knowing that even a little hope was enough to give them an edge unto the likes of the Dark Lord.

 

This thought was foremost on his mind as he and Erestor went out from the talan that had been his abode for the past three weeks to meet up with the rest of the party as they prepared the steeds for their journey. Ecthelion found that he was rather nervous and looked over at his brethren, smiling weakly as Erestor glanced over with an encouraging grin. Taking a deep breath, Ecthelion moved closer and whispered, “Will you stay by me and let us ride farther to the back? I...I do not wish to be near to...to Glorfindel.”

 

Looking sad, yet nodding in understanding, Erestor laced his fingers with Ecthelion’s and squeezed them reassuringly. “Aye, but...will you at least think about speaking with him? This hatred and hurt between you is poisoning you and I fear for you as well as him. You are both special to me,” he urged quietly as he kept his kind blue eyes locked with his kinsman’s.

 

Eyes flaring with both anger and dismay, Ecthelion gazed at his confidante as his mouth tightened with his displeasure before he looked away. They stopped as he kept his gaze down and he only lifted his head as a couple of gentle fingers urged his face to lock with his kinsman’s. “Why do you wish such a thing? What does he have to say to me that will heal the hurt he struck me with so long ago?” he asked tightly, his voice hard with his stubborn anger. He blinked as he was gathered into Erestor’s arms, but did not fight it, instead relaxing into the hold as he raised his own arms to hold Erestor tightly. He nearly purred as slender fingers ran through his hair soothingly, easing away his tension as easily as if he was in his cat form and receiving the same treatment.

 

“The hurt was centuries in the past, Ecthelion. How much longer until you realize that perhaps the truth would be more healing if known on both sides, no matter how hurtful it may appear to be?” Erestor murmured into Ecthelion’s neck as he held the Elf Lord to him. He sighed, mirrored by Ecthelion as he tightened his hold on the strong body. “I only wish you to be happy and I know how much you love him. You need to open your eyes and see that he loves you as well,” he murmured quietly and assuredly before leaning back to break their embrace.

 

Ecthelion searched Erestor’s gaze as they locked eyes and sighed again before looking down and away. “I...I will try. But...” He stopped and looked back up at his kinsman. “I am afraid. He claims to love me, but then Sauron claimed to be looking into the best interests for me, which even then I knew not to be true. How can I trust again?” he asked softly, showing his fear and insecurity vividly to the dark haired Peredhel in a show of trust.

 

“You are already trusting people again, aye? You trust me. You trust Lady Celebrían and her parents and you trust my Lord Elrond. I think it will be easier than you are making it out to be,” Erestor replied easily as he winked playfully, earning a small smile from his kinsman. He pulled back and started them down the path again. “Come. We are leaving soon and we need to make sure our things are prepared.”

 

“It has been so long since I have had ‘things’ to even worry about, much less remembering how to ride a horse. I fear I might fall off at the first move,” Ecthelion grumbled as they walked along, though he grinned good-naturedly as Erestor’s laugh rang out in the sunshine filled forest.

 

“One does not forget how to ride a horse! Do not worry. If you wish, you can ride in front of me until you remember,” Erestor replied teasingly, laughing again as Ecthelion growled playfully and swatted at him. Their bantering preceded them into the glade that the rest of their group were already readying for the journey and brought smiles to most of the gathered there.

 

Standing with Celeborn and Galadriel, Elrond was speaking with them before welcoming Celebrían to his side as she came over to them after helping load some medicines onto Elrond’s steed with Glorfindel. They all looked over as they heard the laughter and smiled as they saw the teasing going between the cousins, a sure sign that things would go well for their journey if Ecthelion was relaxed sufficiently to let down his guard enough to banter. Elrond glanced over to see a wistful smile on Glorfindel’s face as he watched the two before the golden haired Elf caught his gaze. The smile became warmer as Elrond smiled encouragingly to him and they nodded in silent agreement before returning to what they had been doing.

 

Coming over to the four standing Elves, Ecthelion and Erestor smiled and bowed in greeting, which were returned by the four. Celeborn looked up at the sky and sighed in acceptance. “The day fares well of your journey. I pray that your journey will be the first of many steps towards your healing, Lord Ecthelion,” he declared as he returned his gaze to the Elf Lord.

 

“I pray so as well, though I have much to atone for. With both Erestor and Elrond’s help, I shall hope to progress in the right direction,” Ecthelion replied graciously as he bowed his head humbly. He looked up again and smiled sadly. “I fear I have no words to express my gratitude for your kindness and acceptance of me. I can only hope that one day I might be able to repay you in kind,” he continued sadly as he clasped hands with Galadriel and Celeborn.

 

“In time you may indeed, Ecthelion of the House of the Fountain. But until then, just welcome it into your heart that you are accepted,” Galadriel answered warmly as she squeezed his hand, mirrored by a smiling Celeborn.

 

Turning to Celebrían, Ecthelion gathered her into his arms and held her. “To you my Lady I give you my sincerest thanks for your loving presence. I pray to see the day you are wedded to my Lord Elrond and to see all of the children you shall have,” he murmured as he hugged her to him. He leaned back and gazed into her shining eyes, then seemed to focus elsewhere. “Your children shall bring balance to this world as your marriage shall bring balance to the Elves,” he said softly as if from faraway before he refocused, blinking. He smiled as she giggled and hugged him again tightly before they parted.

 

Turning, he bowed to Elrond and they headed towards their horses, which Ecthelion was once more eyeing warily. Erestor snickered as he mounted, then cocked his eyebrow challengingly at his kinsman and earned a grin of retort from Ecthelion. But their teasing was cut short as a sudden growl of rage erupted from one of their party, startling them. The guard glared at Ecthelion as he strode forward. “You are not going to be joining us, you monster!” he snapped out, his green eyes flashing with his fury.

 

“Haenell! What are you doing?” Glorfindel barked out as he strode over to bar the way of his soldier as Ecthelion turned to face the challenger.

 

“This is him, is it not?” Haenell demanded as he stopped, glaring up at his commanding officer with such grief and fury that it stopped Glorfindel in his tracks. His gleaming eyes focused again on the cautious Elf Lord and he snarled again. “This is the one who killed my brother! That...that monster who masquerades as an Elf and would kill us all at Sauron’s word!” he cried angrily, startling them all.

 

Ecthelion felt his mouth go dry as he stared at the soldier, seeing the resemblance between him and the one he had killed a century ago. He was so lost in his memories and despair that he was thus unprepared for the cry of rage as the Elf charged forward, a blade shining in the sunlight as he dodged Glorfindel and tackled Ecthelion. They rolled around a bit, fighting for dominance and spooking the horses as they fought before Ecthelion was pinned and the blade was at his throat. He stared up in both fear and almost animalistic panic as he struggled to break the hold on his neck and arms as the Elf chuckled nastily. “For my brother and all those you have killed, you accursed fiend...” Haenell hissed out before tightening his hold on his sword in preparation to strike.

 

But he was foiled as Glorfindel grabbed him roughly from Ecthelion, yanking him off and dragging him away as he struggled to free himself from his Captain’s hold, screaming obscenities as he fought to break loose. Ecthelion stood as well with help from Erestor, glaring at the soldier as he was pinned by an angered Glorfindel. He turned away, shaking at the curses that were flung at him before he caught sight of the contempt from the others of their guard. He hunched his shoulders as he looked down, not even comforted by the hand that his kinsman placed on his shoulder.

 

Glorfindel held the struggling Elf as Elrond came over, his face a dark cloud of anger as he glared at his soldier. “You have crossed a line! Would you kill an Elf and become a Kin slayer?” Elrond declared angrily in a hiss before slapping the enraged Haenell, snapping him out of his haze.

 

Snarling, Haenell glared at his Lord. “I would be doing us a favor to end *that Kin slayer’s* life! You can not seriously think that that...that creature...is worth even allowing to live among civilized Elves?!” he demanded incredulously as he strained to free himself and finish his revenge. “He killed my brother! I will avenge my brother and all he has murdered at the behest of Sauron!” he cried as he renewed his struggles.

 

“You will do no such thing,” Glorfindel hissed out as he pinned his soldier even more surely, jerking the arms back and causing the Elf to grunt in pain. “You will listen and listen well. Aye, you lost your brother, but to kill another will not bring him back nor will it earn you any such peace as you hope. Our battle is with Sauron, not with the ones he has twisted to his own evil means. You best remember your place before you attack an Elven Lord once more!” he snapped out into the pointed ear near his face, his warning burning through the rage that had clouded the Elf’s senses.

 

Grumbling, Haenell nodded as he turned his face away in defeat, relaxing. He sheathed his sword after being released slowly, and then strode over to his horse, where he mounted up and waited for the signal to leave. Glorfindel looked over at Ecthelion as Elrond murmured softly to their guard in warning as they all glared at the disheveled Elf Lord. The golden haired Elf felt his eyes soften as Ecthelion looked over after a bit and they locked eyes. Ecthelion held his gaze for a minute before nodding in thanks, but Glorfindel had seen the barely suppressed feral light and despair within the soft grey blue eyes, which in turn tore at his own heart. He vowed then to try and become closer to Ecthelion and, as he turned to mount on his horse, he caught Erestor’s gaze. He blinked as he saw the warmth within the gentle blue eyes and returned the smile, confident now that he would succeed. Erestor was on his side.

 

After having spoken with his men, Glorfindel urged Asfaloth closer towards Elrond as the Peredhel Lord mounted, his face still drawn down in a frown. The Seneschal grinned as a gentle hand on Elrond’s thigh distracted the Half Elf and made him look down into Celebrían’s gleaming eyes. A few of them chuckled as he leaned down to receive the heated kiss she gave him before straightening, lightening the mood around the glade as she smirked and stepped back towards her grinning parents. Elrond flushed as he smiled giddily before looking over at Glorfindel and nodding. With a sharp nod, Glorfindel raised his hand. “Move out! To Imladris!” he barked out before leading the way along with a couple of the other guards. They were escorted by some of the Galadhrim to the border and were able to travel to the foothills of the Hithaiglin before sunset, where they then set up camp within the break of some large boulders, which helped to block the wind that swept down from the imposing mountain peaks.

 

After setting up, Ecthelion went over to Erestor and whispered, “I am going to hunt some. Do you think it would be all right if I brought some of the kill?”

 

“I think it would be most welcome,” Erestor answered quietly, smiling reassuringly at his kinsman as he squeezed the clenched hand nearest him in encouragement. His heart hurt at the uncertainty that was now plaguing his kinsman after the attack. He had been doing so well and now his fears were ripping through him. “Just be careful, all right?” he added as he grinned.

 

“I will. I can take care of myself,” Ecthelion replied with an answering grin as he straightened and turned to leave the camp. He was stopped though as Haenell stepped into his path just outside of the tent line. Straightening imperiously, Ecthelion gazed at the other Elf silently before asking, “What do you wish, Haenell?”

 

“Going to hunt now, beast? Or to rut against a tree and mark your territory?” Haenell sneered in reply as he crossed his arms over his chest in defiance.

 

“I am not a beast as I am now,” Ecthelion hissed out angrily, his eyes slitting as they glowed from anger at the insult. He growled lowly before saying, “You had your chance earlier, but now it has passed. I can not even begin to explain what your brother’s death meant to me, but I will atone for it.”

 

“Save your pathetic claims, beast! You are nothing more than a savage whore of Sauron’s and-“

 

But Haenell was not allowed to finish his epithets as with almost blinding speed he was suddenly pinned against a tree with Ecthelion’s claws against his neck as the Elf Lord glared at him with glowing slitted eyes. He gasped in sudden panic as Ecthelion growled menacingly. “I was *never* a whore of Sauron’s nor will I ever be!” Ecthelion snarled out in rage as he bared his fangs, startling the soldier even more in terror.

 

“Ecthelion! Daro!” (Stop!) Erestor cried as he ran over and put a hand on his kinsman’s arm soothingly. “Let him go, Ecthelion...you are better than this,” he whispered softly, encouragingly as Ecthelion’s growling lightened slowly.

 

A choked laugh left the pinned Elf as Haenell glared at them almost maniacally. “No he is not...he is a beast. A creature to be destroyed...” he rasped out as he grabbed at the clawed hand around his throat. He gasped and gulped as the grip tightened on his neck as Ecthelion snarled again.

 

“I suggest that if you do not wish to end up dead, then you had best stop taunting him,” Erestor stated coldly as he glared at the trapped Elf before focusing on his kinsman. “Let him go, Ecthelion...you are not a beast...you are still my kinsman...” he urged the other Elf as he stroked the taut arm soothingly. Slowly, the tight muscles relaxed and the clawed hand released the blustering soldier before shoving the Elf away, causing the stunned soldier to trip and stumble as he gasped for air and clutched at his bleeding neck.

 

Turning to Erestor, Ecthelion worked to control his need to both rend and tear the Elf into shreds and to indeed go find something to rut on. His bloodlust was raging out of control, which he could tell as he panted for command of his feral side. His eyes locked with his cousin’s and he whispered, “I must go...I will be back later. Ask...ask Elrond for a powerful sleep potion. I will need it this night.” He then walked swiftly towards the nearby forest and transformed into his panther form before going on his hunt, working off some of his lust in his hunt for food.

 

Erestor turned an icy gaze onto the unrepentant looking soldier and strode over. His hand whipped up to slap the cocky Elf across the face, stunning Haenell as he stumbled once more and grabbed his cheek in shock. Drawing himself up, Erestor stared down at the stunned Elf and snapped out, “I suggest you return to your tent. You are hereby no longer of the guard and will be taken off of the wardens.”

 

“You...you can not do that! Lord Glorfindel-“

 

“Is on my side and will agree with me once he hears of the folly you sought to cause,” Erestor interrupted coldly as he glared at the shocked Elf. “I suggest you do not add insubordination to the charges of attempted murder, Kin slaying, and disobedience of direct orders! Now go to your tent!” he ordered as his anger took the best of him. Haenell bowed curtly before striding back towards the camp and into a nearby tent. Clenching and unclenching his fists, Erestor worked to contain his own anger and rushing fright that had come over him at the sight that had greeted him. He turned and nearly ran into a broad chest that was in front of him. He looked up in surprise and released his breath in relief. “Glorfindel! What can I do for you?” he asked softly, but he could not hide his agitation from the keen eyes of his friend.

 

Bringing his hands up to rest on Erestor’s shoulders, Glorfindel gazed at his best friend in worry. “What happened? You are shaking like a leaf and I just saw Haenell walk into his tent with blood on his neck and a large bruise growing on his cheek,” he revealed as he searched his friend’s eyes.

 

A dry laugh left Erestor as he pulled back before giving into his urge to lean into his friend and hugging him tightly. “Haenell...that fool went after Ecthelion and taunted him until my cousin attacked him! I almost could not control Ecthelion, but he returned to himself in time and is now hunting for some food for himself and us. Oh Glorfindel, I was so afraid when I looked in his eyes and saw the feral light there!” he whispered as he trembled. “And that Haenell just continued in his taunting! I want him off of the guard and under house arrest!” he demanded as he looked up at his friend.

 

“I will discuss this with Elrond. Haenell is a good soldier, but since his brother had been killed he has become bitter and cynical. I am sure that being faced with his brother’s murderer is not easy on him,” Glorfindel replied softly, trying to soothe his friend as he rubbed the strong arms he held.

 

“He is a menace...but I must speak with Elrond as well. Ecthelion has requested a strong sleeping potion. I fear that he is being influenced somehow and that is why he lost control,” Erestor explained as he looked down.

 

“Aye, I think you are right. Ecthelion was always ever in control, only losing himself to joyous things or in...passion...” Glorfindel trailed off as he swallowed hard and released Erestor, turning away as he sought to fight the sudden tears that had welled up within his eyes. He bowed his head and sighed as Erestor pressed up behind him and held him tightly within his strong arms. “Forgive me. Sometimes I lose hope that I will ever be able to speak with him...that he shall always hate me for what happened,” he murmured in despair.

 

“At least now you are admitting to having done something that did betray him. Fear not...I feel that things will happen to make you both able to open up and forgive each other. But you must be patient,” Erestor answered softly, this time taking over the role of confidante and comforter. He turned the blond around and smiled up at him. “Together we can make him better...this I believe whole heartedly,” he stated firmly, his eyes shining with determination as they focused onto Glorfindel’s uncertain blues.

 

Smiling as he took strength in the determined gaze of his friend, Glorfindel nodded before hugging the dark haired Elf tightly once more. He released Erestor and led the way to Elrond’s side as the Peredhel stood near the fire speaking with a couple of the other sentries. They would indeed try to straighten things out and perhaps, if everything worked out, they could make sure everyone worked together as well.

 

TBC

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen**

  
{Eregion, Quellë 2 TA (approx. end October)}

 

The journey was both a mix of tension and reevaluations. Much of the tension came from the soldiers who despised Ecthelion and Ecthelion’s own continuing agitation. He had at first been unable to understand what was wrong with him, but then had seen why as he had looked up at the sky one clear night near the end of their journey through the Hithaiglin. The moon was nearing its last phase. In four days it would be the new moon. Terrified that he would lose control, he had almost left at that moment, but had been stopped by Erestor. He had shakily explained what was troubling him vaguely, keeping some of the details as cloudy as possible so his shame and condition could be kept hidden, but it had been enough to concern his kinsman.

 

After the revelation, Erestor had taken to staying with him at night. For some strange reason that neither seemed willing to question, the Peredhel’s presence seemed to calm Ecthelion’s baser needs to kill and he would sleep a bit easier at night. However, as the new moon drew near, his instincts grew as well. With luck though, they had made it through the snowy peaks and ended up camping out in the foothills of the Hithaiglin bordering Eregion by that time, thus giving him a way to go into a forest and give in freely to the pull of the new moon.

 

That night, his mind was filled with darkness and a whispering voice that urged him to return and kill the group, but he ignored it in his efforts to be free for the night. He returned just before dawn and climbed into bed next to Erestor, curling up around him in an effort to realize his Elven self once more. Erestor woke at the movements and added presence and so held him close in turn, just allowing Ecthelion to breathe in his kinsman’s scent to ground himself. They both fell into reverie after a while, comforted by the other’s presence. What Ecthelion could not understand was the extreme sense of warmth and love he bore his kinsman. It was almost equal to the love he bore Glorfindel, yet was untainted by the hatred and betrayal he had suffered through so long ago. Unwilling to think on it as he fell asleep, he pushed it aside for later perusal.

 

But the morning preparations took away from his need to think as they set out once more mid morning, all becoming excited in the thought that they would be home within a few days even with the cloudy skies that balefully watched over them on their journey. Keeping close to the foothills, they traveled during the day, winding through the hilly forests along well traveled paths that signified their use. Ecthelion did not speak of what he had done the other night, but he had vague memories of killing foul creatures, the action itself giving him great glee. He kept silent through most of the day, yet knew that he was not unobserved as Erestor, Elrond, and Glorfindel seemed to take turns giving him worried looks throughout the journey.

 

It was after lunch when he was finally confronted and was startled when it was Glorfindel who did so. He was riding along in the rear of the group when Glorfindel sidled his steed up alongside his own. He shied away as he looked up in surprise before looking away quickly, his face becoming shuttered. “What do you want?” he asked quietly, flatly as he stared down at his hands as they clenched within the reins.

 

“You have been distracted worse than usual since your return this morn. Is something bothering you?” Glorfindel asked quietly as he kept his gaze ahead, seemingly just as uncomfortable as his former lover at the proximity. The air almost crackled with the tension and uneasiness that rose between them, making them both very on edge.

 

“Even if there was, I would not tell you,” Ecthelion hissed out as he turned a venomous glare onto the golden haired Elf before looking down again, grinding his teeth as the silence fell onto them in a stifling blanket. Glorfindel did not reply, but his jaw could be seen tightening as he swallowed his frustration. Thus they were both surprised when Ecthelion said, “I remember vaguely killing Orcs last night. I think we are being followed.”

 

Blinking in surprise, Glorfindel looked over at Ecthelion and they locked eyes. Time seemed to slow down as they searched the other’s gaze for something of which neither could rightly describe. They found their souls reaching for the other in longing, but a sudden darkness in Ecthelion’s mind pulled him back with a gasp and they broke eye contact, startled. Glorfindel reached over as Ecthelion swayed and expected to be shrugged off. When it did not happen, he took advantage of it and caressed the firm shoulder and arm as he calmed Ecthelion down. “Are you all right?” he asked softly in concern as confused grey blue eyes focused on him again as he watched his former lover.

 

“A-Aye I...I am. I...I was just dizzy,” Ecthelion answered unsteadily before gently removing Glorfindel’s hand from his shoulder. “Thank you for...not letting me fall,” he mumbled as he looked down at his hands almost immediately, uncomfortable with what had transpired between them.

 

“I would never let you fall if I could, Ecthelion,” Glorfindel replied quietly as he watched the dark haired Elf intently as his hand returned to his reins. When the grey blue eyes returned to his, he smiled softly. “One day, I hope you will remember that, melethen,” (my love) he added softly before kneeing his horse a bit and moving ahead, leaving a very confused and startled Ecthelion watching him. He felt a strange sense of hope kindle within his heart as he remembered the sense of being together with Ecthelion and the mirrored love he had seen briefly within the grey blue orbs. He knew then that he would not give up until Ecthelion was his once more.

 

But his ruminations were scattered as a shout of warning went up from the point scout. “Orcs!! Orcs are coming!” was shouted as the scout rode in swiftly, his sword already bloody with Orc blood as he rode just ahead of a group of shrieking Orcs who were obviously using the foul weather to their advantage in their ambush.

 

“Defend yourselves!” Glorfindel roared in command as they took out their swords in preparation for battle before he suddenly realized that Ecthelion did not have a blade. He wheeled his horse around and saw, to his shock and horror, that Ecthelion was surrounded by several Orcs who were slashing at him as his horse reared and fought back. Glorfindel let loose a battle cry as he charged Asfaloth towards the group, slashing at the attackers and quickly joined by Elrond on the other side. He saw that he had been wrong to assume that Ecthelion was unarmed as he took note of the bloodied claws as they slashed through the throats of the nearest attackers before gripping the reins. He followed after Ecthelion as the other Elf jumped his steed over the Orcs, then blinked in surprise as his former lover leapt off of his horse. He watched in amazement, and almost was killed for his lapse in attention, as Ecthelion rippled into his panther form, snarling as he attacked the Orcs that came at him. Regaining his attention quickly, Glorfindel defended himself, but was awed at the prowess of his former lover. Such strength was incredible to watch.

 

A scream of agony rang out from near the others and Ecthelion was suddenly racing through the copse of trees towards the others of their group who were battling desperately. He ripped through the attacking marauders, sending their lifeless bodies flying as he clawed his way through, roaring in challenge. He came upon the fallen Elf and stopped in shock. It was Haenell. The soldier looked up as he held his leg in pain, eyes flaring in challenge before turning to surprise as Ecthelion shifted around and began protecting him. The younger Elf could only watch as Ecthelion defended him savagely from the encroaching Orcs, his powerful jaws and claws ripping out throats or slashing through armor to soft tissue and tossing them aside as he battled. At last they were free from the Orcs and Ecthelion turned to Haenell, panting heavily with his exertions as the other Elves worked to finish the last of the Orcs off and take stock of who was injured.

 

Drawing back in fear as Ecthelion prowled forward, Haenell’s eyes widened in fear as he stared up at the fearsome creature that had just saved his life. Suddenly, the features shifted and turned to Elven as Ecthelion gazed at him before looking at the leg wound. Haenell cried out and hissed in pain as the wound was pressed together before being sucked on by Ecthelion’s blood covered lips, pulling out the poison that was threatening to spread. He watched in astonishment as the poison was removed before the sound of tearing cloth was heard. He looked up to see that Ecthelion had torn strips from his own mangled tunic and was packing some moss into the wound to stave off the bleeding before binding it. “Why?” he asked roughly as he watched the determined Elf bandage his wound.

 

Looking up, Ecthelion studied the other Elf before sitting back and wiping his mouth clean and glancing away. “A life for a life...” was all he said before standing shakily. He helped Haenell to stand and let the soldier lean on him as they went back to where the others were gathering and treating their wounds. Elrond led the stunned soldier to a large rock to check the bandaging, leaving a suddenly wearied Ecthelion alone. Seeing that the others were distracted, he went through the woods until he found a clear pond. Stripping, he went immediately into the water and began washing the stains of blood from his hands and face. His face was cold and emotionless as he scrubbed himself nearly raw. He blinked in surprise when gentle hands suddenly stopped his rough actions and he looked up into the eyes of his kinsman. “Erestor...” he whispered softly, his voice rough with sudden emotion before he was gathered into Erestor’s strong arms.

 

“You saved Haenell and Elrond believes that he will be able to keep his leg. Glorfindel told me and Elrond that you had most likely killed the advance party the other night. We owe you our lives...” Erestor whispered soothingly into Ecthelion’s ear as he rubbed the strong trembling back in gentle circles, easing away the sorrow.

 

“I did not want anyone to see me as that. They will think me even more a monster,” Ecthelion murmured miserably as he held onto his kinsman tightly, burying his face within the strong and, as he finally realized, naked shoulder. He registered dimly that Erestor was unclothed as well, but his warring emotions drowned out the little detail as he soaked in the comfort that was most likely going to end soon. He would surely not be allowed near any civilized Elven realm now...

 

“Nay, I think not. I think now they appreciate you even more,” Erestor retorted gently before leaning back and bringing Ecthelion’s face up so they were eye-to-eye. “You are no monster. You are my kin and I love you still,” he added firmly, smiling as Ecthelion’s eyes lit up in pleasure at the affirmations.

 

“I love you as well. I am glad that we were brought together,” Ecthelion responded warmly before they hugged tightly again, this time out of gratitude. They parted and left the pool, dressing in silence before returning to the temporary camp that had been made to treat the injured. Ecthelion ducked his head as he felt all of the stares upon him, not daring to see the contempt he knew to be aimed at him as he went over to his horse, who had also escaped unscathed. He looked up and smiled slightly as Elrond gazed at him sternly. “I am fine, my Lord. I took no injury,” he said softly in reassurance, smiling a little more as Elrond smiled in relief, relaxing. But his good humor did not last as he heard a couple of grumbles near to him that were not exactly quiet.

 

“Not injured...just like a beast to escape unscathed...”

 

“I bet he led these Orcs to us...”

 

He stiffened in both shock and hurt and looked over to see two of the sentries sneering at him in disgust. He saw Glorfindel all but bristling with umbrage as he stalked over, but it was someone else that gave the rebuttal, stunning them all. “You insult an *Elf Lord* who just saved many of our lives! Your words show no honor!” They all stared as Haenell hobbled over, leaning heavily on a makeshift crutch as he made his way over to the shocked Ecthelion. Stopping in front of Ecthelion, Haenell bowed his head, knowing everyone present was watching them intently. “I beg pardon for what I have said and done to you in the past few weeks, my Lord Ecthelion. What you did today, you did not have to do. You opened my eyes to how wrong I was to ever judge you. You are no beast, but t'was I who was worse than an animal in my vengeance,” he declared firmly before looking up. “I hope that I may one day repay you for what you did for me today.”

 

Touched, Ecthelion hesitantly brought up a hand and placed it firmly on Haenell’s shoulder, smiling slightly. “No forgiveness need be sought. We are equal in our wrongs and are now square. I look forward to becoming...friends,” he answered softly, his smile widening in response to Haenell’s smile and nod. Haenell then stepped back and went over to his horse to prepare to leave, for they still had many hours to go before sunset. A respective silence fell over the group as they watched Haenell and Ecthelion before the quiet bustle of preparations filled the air. No one said much on what had happened with either the ambush or the reconciliation, but many knew that things had changed. Ecthelion had gained respect where there had been none and it could only improve the situations that were sure to rise up.

 

They stopped just a little after dark, setting up camp near a cave for protection. Erestor and Elrond went into the woods to find some more herbs, since the Elf Lord’s stash of herbs had been exhausted earlier with treating the wounds that many of them had received. They had luckily not had any fatalities, but the attack had indeed slowed their return to Imladris. Ecthelion went into his tent and laid out onto the bed, fatigued from both the other night and from the battle earlier on, but his mind was a jumble of thoughts and not letting him go to sleep. The thought that stuck out the most was surprisingly not Haenell and his reconciliation, but the moment with Glorfindel. He ran it over in his mind as he stared up at the top of his tent, unthinkingly letting it meld with the memory of being held by Erestor in the pond.

 

He sighed heavily and turned onto his side, troubled as he realized just what his mind had done. He had found solace within Erestor’s arms, feeling an emotion that he also labeled with his feelings for Glorfindel: love. He had meant it when he had said that he loved Erestor, but he only now realized that what he had meant was a far deeper emotion than he knew it should be. Confused, he examined the emotion and compared it with the love he bore for Glorfindel and found them almost the same in intensity within his heart. But he was kin to Erestor! He should not have such feelings for Erestor! But somehow, that thought did not have as much power as he felt it should have. He felt safe with Erestor and drew strength from the quiet certainty that the other Elf looked upon him with. However, he knew that he could not allow such feelings be known and, since the new moon was farther away now, he did not have such uncontrollable urges as he had had the past week. Resolved, he knew that he would work to be less intense with his love, for he knew he could not destroy it. If love were so easy to be rid of, then he would have rid himself of his love for both Glorfindel and Turgon centuries ago.

 

Determined, he relaxed into sleep finally as he let the soothing sounds of the others talking outside of his tent put him into a deep reverie. He would need his strength for the next few days.

 

TBC

 


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen**   
  


_Telepathy_

 

{Imladris, Quellë 2 TA (approx. beg. November)}

 

In all of his time on Middle earth, Ecthelion had not been prepared in any way for the beauty that was the Last Homely House. As they came into the vale that was to be his new home, his eyes drank in the sights, taking in the lush greenery that surrounded them while the rest of his senses absorbed the vivacious scents, textures, and sounds that pressed in on them in an almost overwhelming cacophony of new experiences. He realized the difference between this life-filled land and the peaceful realm that was Lothlórien almost immediately as he took in the multitude of sounds and scents. While Lothlórien was peaceful and stable, Imladris was a center of power within nature. And his spirit adored it.

 

He turned his head constantly in an effort to see and experience all of the things that were around him, most likely seeming like an Elfling to those around him, but to his enhanced senses, nothing had felt as welcoming and heady as the mysterious vale. The waterfalls thundered in the distance, mingling with the river Bruinen’s currents as the water rushed over the hidden river rock that lined the bottom of the meandering body of water. Mist from those waterfalls caused an air of secrecy to mingle in amongst the clean air of the forest, while the towering cliffs promised security as they strained towards the sky within the sunlit hours. The smells of the forest delighted his senses and stirred his animal side as easily as the chirrups from the birds and the rustling of rabbits and squirrels in the foliage. It was like a new sweet that was to be savored and devoured all at once! He could not take in enough to satisfy his cravings!

 

His musings were interrupted by a gentle hand on his own and he looked over into Erestor’s laughing blue eyes, his own wide with delight and shining with excitement as he smiled. “Oh Erestor! This land is glorious!” he whispered breathlessly before looking around once more as they came into the more structured areas of living that was the Elven kingdom.

 

“I am glad you like it, Ecthelion,” Erestor murmured with a grin, both amused and heartened at his kinsman’s response to their home. He glanced over to see Glorfindel watching them with a small smile, enjoying Ecthelion’s reaction just as much as the Peredhel. Elrond also glanced over and grinned before focusing forward again as cheering rang up from the gathering Elves as their Lord returned.

 

Looking forward almost immediately as the cheering started, Ecthelion’s eyes widened, but this time it was in anxiety as he took in all of the Elves that were there. He looked down after a bit, suddenly terrified of the people’s reactions to his sudden presence. What if they were the same as what Haenell’s had been at first?! True, things were now not as bad as they had been but a few days previous, however the thought that things would change at any moment always hung over the Elf Lord as he rode alongside the more ‘normal’ of his companions. He was shaken from his self doubt as a gentle hand laced with his own and squeezed. He looked over through a curtain of his ebony hair to lock eyes with his kinsman. He smiled slightly as he saw the concern within the soft blue eyes and felt his heart and faer warm to that tenderness, banishing his uncertainties. With Erestor by his side, he could withstand any ridicule or scorn that may be foisted upon him by the residents of Imladris.

 

Their party came to the main courtyard, where they were greeted by what appeared to be the entire household staff. At the head of the group was an Elf with long white hair and a gentle face and another Elf that had soft brown hair and vivid green eyes that seemed to take in all details and catalog them within a very sharp mind. Relaxing, Ecthelion felt no malice within their assessing gazes and met their looks with a neutral yet open look of his own. They smiled in greeting and each nodded in welcome to him, putting his initial apprehension to rest with that simple gesture. The group dismounted and their horses were led off as they went to meet the awaiting assembly. Elrond smiled at his two advisors and clasped arms with them in salutation before turning to his people. “My friends, I have returned from Lothlórien with someone who was thought lost to our people an Age ago. May I present Lord Ecthelion of the House of the Fountain. I ask only that you care for him as your own and aid him in adjusting to our realm,” he declared as he held a hand out to the stunned Ecthelion.

 

Frozen as cheers and applause rose up around him, Ecthelion found that he could not move out of fear of what may be said. But the acceptance was genuine as he finally looked around and was surprised when a firm hand pushed him towards Elrond so he could accept the offered hand. He looked at the Peredhel Lord and swallowed hard as he smiled weakly while squeezing the hand that grasped his own firmly, stunned at the continued approval that washed over him. He bowed his head then in recognition of their kindness before he was led from the courtyard by Elrond and into the main lodging of the Elven city, followed by Glorfindel, Erestor, and the two Elves that had been at the head of the assembled household. The rest of the household and traveling party went on to their separate duties, all gossiping about the latest addition to their household. Imladris was certainly becoming quite the celebrity attraction!

 

Glancing at Elrond as they went along the marbled halls of Imladris, Ecthelion smiled slightly as he caught Elrond’s eye. “Thank you for not saying more,” he murmured quietly, luckily stifled by the chatter that was going on behind them between the other four Elves so his cousin could not hear him.

 

Smiling warmly, Elrond nodded. “You are coming to us as an Elf. There is no need for your personal life to come to light. And with luck we shall cure you before it becomes a danger,” he replied with a shrug. They turned down a couple more passageways until they came to a wide staircase that led into a sprawling library. Ecthelion was once more compelled to look around in awe as he took in the seemingly endless amounts of books, scrolls, and parchments that filled a multitude of bookshelves. A sweeping balcony circled the entire room and held another row of unending shelves of books that went to the edges of the vaulted ceiling. A gilded ladder could be seen in a farther corner under the balcony with several smaller versions amidst the many rows of shelving.

 

His perusal was interrupted as a gentle hand tugged him towards the right, where he found himself climbing a set of three stairs onto a raised dais that took up the opposite third of the room. He saw there a long polished oak table that held many plush chairs around it, an obvious conference table for when meetings were to be held and information gathered. He sat down in a daze at the seat that Erestor pulled out for him, his wide eyed gaze still taking in the lavish surroundings before being drawn to the massive windows that rose up in clear arches towards the ceiling that they were now situated near. His breath caught as he took in the view of the waterfalls that tumbled along the craggy recesses in the distance, where they melded with the surrounding calming forest that called to him enticingly.

 

He tore his gaze away finally and finished his examination of his surroundings, finding a set of three desks nearby, the largest one hosting a pile of papers and a few maps amidst the quill and ink bottles there, while the other two were smaller in size, yet no less cluttered. He saw a small book shelf behind them that held various artifacts and a box that caught his eye almost immediately, causing his curiosity and a strange sense of want to rise up within him before he forced his gaze away. His final sweep of the immense room showed that several of the smaller windows around the library also held window seats and pillows so that people who came in merely for leisure could curl up and read to their hearts’ content without bothering anyone. A large stone fireplace stood near the edge of the dais and was already filled with a merrily crackling fire, spreading warmth throughout the drafty room.

 

The soft sound of a voice clearing broke through his scrutiny and urged him to focus on the amused gathering around him. He grinned sheepishly and looked down in contrition as the others chuckled. “Forgive me, but it has been many years since I have been in such a room,” he murmured as a faint tinge of pink came to his cheeks.

 

“I remember how much you had adored coming to the library of my House for yours was, in your words, too small and uninformed,” Glorfindel commented as he sat back, grinning widely as more soft laughter greeted his comment. Ecthelion looked up, a soft smile on his lips as his eyes sparkled at the memory before looking over at Elrond as the Half Elf cleared his throat once more in a call for calm among them. Glorfindel felt his own heart beat faster in joy at the look and flicked his gaze over briefly to Erestor, who was grinning at him hopefully. He focused on Elrond then, so missed the look of sorrow that went through Erestor’s eyes.

 

Scrutinizing the gathered Elves with warmth, Elrond nodded before centering his gaze upon the two as yet unnamed Elves. “Lindir, Melpomaen, I would like to introduce you to Lord Ecthelion. Ecthelion, this is Lindir, our chief Minstrel and one of my most trusted advisors, and Melpomaen, the head of my household staff. Along with Erestor, who is my Chief Advisor and diplomat, and Glorfindel, who is my Seneschal, they help me run Imladris. I would like you to work with them until you find your niche here in Imladris,” he stated as he smiled at Ecthelion, gesturing to each Elf as he explained their duties.

 

Bowing his head in acceptance of the suggestion, Ecthelion then looked up. “I may suggest having me work within the soldiers, my Lord. I was one of Turgon’s Captains along with Glorfindel and know much of leadership, if you wish,” he said with only a slight bit of hesitation. He did not dare look over at Glorfindel, instead sensing the excitement such a suggestion aroused within his former lover.

 

Nodding thoughtfully before tilting his head, Elrond kept his gaze on Ecthelion as he answered, “Perhaps at a later time when you are no longer in danger. It would not do for you to lose control while on a mission.”

 

“Why do you say this, my Lord? Is Lord Ecthelion ill?” Melpomaen asked in confusion as he leaned his chin onto his propped up hand, his eyes filled with concerned curiosity as they took in the bowed head of the newly arrived Elf.

 

“Ill perhaps might be the best term, but it is not necessary for you to know, Melpomaen,” Elrond replied gently as he folded his hands before him on the table.

 

“Nay, my Lord...tis all right if they know. Best to have it out of the way before the rumor mill takes it and runs with it unto the ends of Arda,” Ecthelion murmured somewhat jokingly, though his voice shook with some withheld emotion as he looked up at the Half Elf.

 

Staring at Ecthelion in surprise before nodding once in grim acceptance, Elrond refocused on the now confused advisors. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he smiled before saying, “Lord Ecthelion is the...creature...that you have heard of. He is the Elf that was captured and changed by Sauron and was killing for the past three centuries.”

 

Eyes wide with shock, both Elves looked over at Ecthelion with mingled looks of incredulity and fear. Ecthelion stared blankly at the table before whispering, “Aye, I sense your fear. I do not wish anyone harm and have taken precautions to protect others from my animal side.” His trembling hands clenched tightly around each other as he forced himself to remain focused on his hands, not wishing to see the condemnation within the advisors’ eyes.

 

The other three Elf Lords watched the two advisors quietly, letting them absorb the news that the gentle Elf that had joined their ranks was also a ravening beast within. But they did not disappoint them and relaxed, smiling. “Well, that is a tale worth spinning someday,” Lindir commented lightly as he deliberately relaxed, exchanging a grin with Melpomaen before looking over at the grateful Elf Lord as Ecthelion looked up at them.

 

“Perhaps when I am not doomed to death with my words I might tell you my tale,” Ecthelion responded a bit hoarsely as he fought the sudden tears of relief that threatened to spill down his pale cheeks.

 

Nodding, Lindir winked at Ecthelion, setting them all at ease. “Your story would most likely rank up there along with the Lord Glorfindel’s tale of bravery against the Balrog,” he suggested slyly before blinking in confusion as Ecthelion looked at him in bafflement.

 

“What...Balrog?” Ecthelion asked as he looked around at the table before focusing on Glorfindel. He frowned as he saw that Glorfindel was focused on the table, his own face dark with the shadows of the past. Ecthelion turned his gaze to Erestor, puzzled and worried as he saw the understanding light within his kinsman’s eyes. “Perhaps I will need to hear this tale as well,” he murmured as he looked down in shame.

 

“Perhaps indeed at the feast this night,” Elrond said briskly as he worked to smooth away the uncomfortable tension that now sat within their midst. He looked over at Melpomaen and smiled. “Melpomaen, would you please show Ecthelion to his new rooms and then give him a tour of the House? I would like to speak with these four,” he requested politely.

 

“Of course, my Lord. This way, Lord Ecthelion,” Melpomaen responded warmly as he stood and stepped away from the table, turning to direct Ecthelion as the Elf Lord stood numbly and left the room after an absent-minded bow to them in farewell. Elrond focused on his friends and smiled once more. Hopefully everything would work out...

 

Walking silently along the halls as he followed the advisor, Ecthelion could not react very well as thoughts of Glorfindel’s death harassed his conscious. He had never thought on how his ex-lover had died and had never thought to look into it. His own hurt and anger had closed him off to such thoughts. But with their relationship slowly renewing itself, it now became something of an importance for him to find out if he were to understand Glorfindel’s own darkness. But did he really wish to know? Shaking himself with a growl, Ecthelion’s eyes narrowed as they glared at the ground at such a selfish thought. Of course he wanted to know! He was not the only one to suffer there!

 

_But is that not what you want? You wish him to suffer for what he did to you..._

 

Stopping in shock at the voice that whispered through his mind, Ecthelion stared in horror at nothing. ‘Nay! I do not want that anymore! I...I...’

 

_You wish him to suffer as he sees you with another. You want him to know of betrayal._

 

Gasping as he clutched his tunic over his heart, Ecthelion stumbled and sat down abruptly, not even hearing Melpomaen’s concerned inquiries on what was wrong, too shaken by this statement to even hear the other Elf. ‘N-Nay! I would never...I could never! I still love him!’

 

_Yet you love another...another has taken his place in your heart. You will hurt him as he hurt you so many years ago..._

 

“Nay!” he suddenly screamed, clutching his head as he trembled in terror at what the words were saying to him. He did not even think on where the words were coming from as the darkness within him welled up. He sobbed as he fought the darkness in him. ‘I will never hurt Erestor like that! I love him!’

 

_You will destroy them...you can not escape who you are..._

 

Screaming in agony as he wept, Ecthelion did not even feel as Melpomaen shook him as he struggled. He did not hear the footsteps that came running towards them, nor did he feel the arms that gathered him to a strong chest as he was carried to his rooms. He clutched at the tunic that he was resting against as he sobbed, shaking and nearly writhing as he battled with the shadows that were welling up to over run his mind before he finally lost consciousness as he was laid out onto his bed. But he was not freed from the battle as he clashed against the will that was working to take him over. ‘I will never let harm come to the ones I love!!’ he screamed into the blackness that pressed in around him, suffocating him.

 

_You are mine, Ecthelion...you will never escape my hold..._

 

A wail of despair tore from his lips as he arched before a sudden light seemed to break through the darkness. He sensed them...sensed the touches and voices of the two he loved. They were pushing the shadows back, driving them away with their light! He reached towards that light and worked to break free, sobbing with his desperate climb towards the gentle luminescence that called to him. He lurched awake, breaking out of his nightmare laden oblivion to fall into Erestor’s hold, weeping as he shook with tremors so violent that they shook the bed. Soothing hands brushed over his back and through his hair as Erestor whispered softly to him, calming him as he was held within those strong arms. He finally regained control of himself after a while and looked over through bleary eyes to see Elrond watching him in worry along with Glorfindel.

 

Leaning in, Elrond placed a cool hand on Ecthelion’s fevered forehead and frowned lightly. “What happened, Ecthelion?” he asked softly, encouragingly. Shaking his head wildly as he swallowed hard, Ecthelion buried his face within Erestor’s abdomen once more, seeking both solace and security there as he worked to expel the evilness that had been trying to take hold of him again. It had been two weeks since the last new moon. Now he feared that he might not be able to fight the darkness that overwhelmed him. What was more was the terror that filled him as he wondered just what he might end up doing.

 

After a bit, he dozed off and was left alone with Erestor. He slept fitfully, too frightened to sleep. Erestor watched over him in worry as he dozed, concerned with the sudden fit his cousin had gone through. He knew then that he had to work on helping his beloved kinsman break through the darkness that still held him. He only hoped that they could do it.

 

TBC

 


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen**  
  
{Imladris, Hrívë 2 TA (approx. mid December)}

 

After the arrival of Ecthelion, Imladris and her inhabitants seemed to resume their normal lives. But for those who ran Imladris and were also close to Ecthelion, it was a time of extreme worry and confusion. Following the first ‘attack’ that he had had on the day of his arrival, Ecthelion became more withdrawn and agitated as the days went by, though he was still warm and welcoming to Erestor and, as time passed, Glorfindel. Glorfindel began to become closer to Ecthelion in an effort to help his former lover, yet there was still a large wall between them that almost seemed to grow as Ecthelion continued to act so strangely. In the beginning of the Hrívë season, he disappeared for a few days, returning to them restless and disheveled, a sign that his time away had not been as relaxing as they had been hoping.

 

But still he kept quiet on his troubles, never letting it be known how he was haunted at night by the voice within him, fearing that it was indeed Sauron trying to reclaim his soul. And after he had returned from his ‘exploration’ away from Imladris, he was even more troubled. For in that time, he had been ordered to do something that he raged against, fighting it with everything in him. Yet it was a battle that he was losing, which was becoming obvious as he became thinner with each passing day, his face hollow and shadowed, while his eyes were wary and shuttered to those who had been close to him.

 

He took refuge however in the library that had so captivated him, almost seeking solace there since Erestor and Elrond generally worked within the hallowed hall during the day. He would watch them for a bit before going through the shelves. He would pick a book and go to a window seat, snuggling into the plush cushions before he lost his worries within ancient tales of their people and all that had happened since his death. It was within those ancient tomes that he learned of what had happened to both Gondolin and to Glorfindel.

 

It was lucky that Erestor had indeed been there, for he had comforted his dismayed kinsman as he had wept over the horror of the sorrowful tale. It had also been after that incident that he had started to become more open to Glorfindel, for he had gone to Glorfindel later that night in the Fire Hall and had spoken with the golden haired Elf long into the night on the past. They had not become intimate that night. Indeed, one could almost say that Ecthelion shunned any intimacy from anyone who offered, though none could understand why, for he was much wanted by many in the court. But he secluded himself in fear and self loathing, never showing his feelings even to his beloved cousin, whom he grew to love more every day.

 

A love that was swiftly turning into a heated lust.

 

He did, however, spend some time with Elrond every morning in search of a possible cure for the potion that had changed him. They even searched for a remedy that might lighten the affects upon him, but they had no success and were growing frustrated. Elrond though was always caring and lent an ear to the other Elf Lord in sympathy whenever Ecthelion needed to let off some of his inner demons. But all were worried about Ecthelion as he continued to seclude himself and did not share what was wrong.

 

But that soon was placed to the back of everyone’s minds as the looming Winter Solstice festival became ever closer. Excitement was in the air for it was a very special night to all being that it was the longest night of the year and also a time to celebrate families and the hope of new life to come with the light. Lindir and his minstrels were often heard practicing new music for the festival, while Melpomaen and Erestor were busy fixing up guest rooms, feast arrangements, and decorating plans as the time grew nearer. Ecthelion helped where he could, but the darkness within him was rising more and more often to the fore, so he tried to work more in solitude, running errands for his cousin to escape from the others in an effort to save them from his wrath.

 

It was on one of his errands on the day of the feast that he found out just *why* he was so agitated. He was delivering some decorations to his cousin and had just stepped from the office when he overheard two Elf maidens talking as they walked along the hallway.

 

“Did you buy another lantern for tonight?” the first Elleth asked her friend, her rosy cheeks dimpling as she grinned excitedly, her blue eyes shining underneath the soft black hair that swept along her face.

 

“Aye I did. Thank goodness we went when we could! Tonight is going to be so dark without the moon!” her friend answered as she brushed a delicate hand through her red gold hair, her plump red lips parted with a smile as her green eyes sparkled with amusement.

 

“I know! This is the first time in three centuries that there has ever been a new moon on the Winter Solstice! I do hope that my dress will...”

 

Their voices trailed out of Ecthelion’s hearing, but he had already stopped listening by that time. He stared at the wall in shock as their words sank in and swirled within his mind. ‘The new moon...Winter Solstice...’

 

With a gasping sob, he pushed away from the wall and ran to his rooms, shutting himself into them before stumbling forward a bit. He leaned against the wall, shaking as he stared at the ground, not even feeling the tears that rolled down his cheeks in steady streaks. The command that had been given to him a month ago ascended from the depths of his mind to the forefront of his awareness, taunting him with its ugly demand. He began to pace within his room, growing more and more agitated and feral as the day progressed and the power of the upcoming night began to take him over.

 

He did not note the passage of time as he continued to pace, trying to fight the evil that was within him, yet he was also very tired from his battle. But he used the strength that his feral side had given him to bolster his battle, shaking with the torment yet standing firm as he did so. It was thus that he could not contain his reactions when the click of the door alerted him to a stranger within his room.

 

Turning swiftly, he snarled with ferocity as he saw the figure entering his sanctuary through a haze before he shifted forward so fast that he could not be tracked. A cry of alarm left the intruder as he was grabbed by Ecthelion and tossed towards the divan, where he tried to scramble away from the stalking Elf. Ecthelion was faster though and lunged forward, pinning the Elf beneath him on the divan as he glared down at the interloper with glowing slitted eyes.

 

“Ecthelion no! It is me, Erestor!”

 

The frightened plea broke through the animalistic smog that had clouded Ecthelion’s mind and he blinked as he growled, focusing on the Elf that he held pinned. He leaned forward and pressed close, sniffing slowly along Erestor’s neck in an effort to determine the truth. He groaned and collapsed on top of his cousin as he breathed in the intoxicating scent. “Forgive me, Erestor...I knew not that it was you...” he whispered softly against the pale skin as he released his hold on the Peredhel’s wrists. He trembled as the strong arms enfolded him in a hug and rubbed his back while he pushed his arms under Erestor’s torso to hug him closer, his face never leaving the crook of Erestor’s neck and shoulder.

 

“Are you all right?” Erestor whispered breathlessly, his heart beat pounding out an enthralling beat to Ecthelion’s enhanced hearing as he held tightly to his kinsman.

 

“It is too close...the moon is...I must...forgive me...” Ecthelion whispered gutturally before flicking his tongue out to taste the sweet pale flesh. A shudder went through the body he held under him and his breathing increased as arousal coursed through his veins. “So lovely...have wanted you for so long...” he murmured between each lap of his tongue along the warm skin, growing more incensed with every intake of the scent and taste that was Erestor.

 

“Ecthelion...” Erestor whispered softly, almost pleadingly, but neither of them was suddenly sure on what was being asked. He whimpered as the heated tongue swiped along his jaw line and then the length of his ear, sending a torrent of pleasure shivering over his body and causing him to arch slightly in response. He looked up as Ecthelion shifted and they locked eyes, searching the other’s gaze for a sign on just what they were leaning towards.

 

Seeing what he needed to see, Ecthelion bent in suddenly and brushed his lips over Erestor’s, teasing the parted lips with his own until a breathy moan left them in response followed by Erestor pressing closer for more contact. He met the plump lips hungrily; kissing and suckling on the reddening flesh before their tongues suddenly were twining between their connected orifices, dueling heatedly as their bodies pressed together in a weak mimicry of the intimacy. Breaking the kiss with a gasp, Ecthelion gazed down at his kinsman intensely before leaning in once more, but instead of going in for another kiss, he attacked the pale column of flesh he had tasted earlier.

 

Erestor’s moan of need wafted into the air as he arched and offered his neck to his kinsman, his arms tightening their hold on the strong shoulders before running down the powerful body to the slender buttocks that undulated under his hold. He squeezed the plump flesh, groaning as Ecthelion growled and ground their hips together in a fiery rhythm of pleasure that sent him arching even closer to Ecthelion. He gasped for air as his robes were summarily torn off and his chest attacked, each nipple suckled and nipped into a swollen intensity so much so that he cried out loudly when they were pinched by the clawed fingers of his soon-to-be lover. He parted his legs eagerly as Ecthelion shifted down farther, the hot mouth that had so far given him nothing but blistering passion moving along a path that took him straight to Erestor’s straining leggings. He panted with need as he watched his leggings be shredded and joined swiftly by Ecthelion’s own mangled clothing before his member was taken deep within that tormenting mouth.

 

He all but howled as his body bent in pleasure, curling towards the dark head that greedily took him in as he thrust up. He gasped as the desire within him burst over him and he rapidly emptied himself into the demanding mouth that had brought him such pleasure, his body taut as he trembled with his release before collapsing onto the divan. He looked up woozily as he felt the strong body of his kinsman blanket him with warmth and happily wrapped his arms around the sturdy shoulders, opening his mouth immediately to the imperious kiss that was pressed onto his mouth to taste the remnants of his release on that talented tongue.

 

But he was not given any reprieve as, with a soft growl, Ecthelion slowly urged him onto his stomach. Suddenly alarmed as he felt two sharp nails caress his hidden pucker, Erestor looked over his shoulder with wide eyes, locking them with the lust filled gaze of his kinsman. Ecthelion must have read his fear for he faltered and sat back a bit, whimpering. Smiling in understanding, Erestor slowly brought a couple of his fingers to his mouth and sucked on them, wetting them thoroughly before running them back. He groaned in appreciation as he felt gentle fingers guide him to his entrance, where he pushed his fingers inside in an effort to prepare himself. He moaned loudly as he spread his fingers and thrust them in awkwardly, bending his knees so he could push his buttocks up, making it easier for him to go deeper.

 

He was unprepared thusly for the hot wet tongue that joined his fingers, slicking the passage even more as it wiggled between his digits. He groaned and bucked in pleasure, hardening swiftly at the sensory overload. Moaning as his fingers were gently pulled from his body, he looked over his shoulder again and leaned up onto his hands while watching his soon-to-be lover stroke himself. His eyes widened in surprise as he took in the member that was jutting out from between Ecthelion’s legs before a purr distracted him. He looked up and smiled sheepishly as he saw the lusty grin on Ecthelion’s face as the other Elf watched him before he looked down again as the slender clawed hand slowly ran along the almost purple flesh. It was shaped much like his only much bigger in both girth and length. But what caught his eye was the pulsing flesh that surrounded the base of the massive erection. It expanded and contracted as he watched, almost as though it were breathing, though he knew that it was not.

 

Looking up again at Ecthelion, Erestor smirked and nodded before looking forward and spreading his legs more in invitation. He moaned as a low growl floated out from Ecthelion just before soft lips pressed onto his lower back. They trailed up his back before latching onto his neck, silently commanding him to not move as he felt the large member press at his entrance. He groaned in both pain and pleasure as he was entered with one thrust, a strong arm bracing him across the chest as his trembling body took in the throbbing flesh. He gasped as an even larger mound pushed into him just before Ecthelion stopped and knew that they were bound for now until that flesh deflated after their release. But he did not think on that long as Ecthelion began moving within him, his low growls pulsating against his neck from where the soft lips were attached to his neck.

 

Grunts and moans mingled with the soft growls and the slapping of skin as they moved together, thrusting and writhing against the other in a rhythm as ancient as they were. The bracing arm that had held Erestor up shifted to support them just in front of his own arms as their hands laced together. The sounds of their mating amplified with their movements as Ecthelion increased his thrusts until he was pounding into Erestor, their gasps the only sounds either could produce as they strove towards their release. With twin cries of pleasure, they arched as one and climaxed together, their bodies shaking in tandem as they rocketed into bliss. They collapsed forward after a minute of their explosive expulsions, though Ecthelion instinctively turned them to their sides as they did so to make sure they would not be hurt. They kissed deeply as they gasped for air, sharing their joy just through touch alone as words failed them.

 

Ecthelion held Erestor as the Peredhel collapsed into a sated reverie, signs of their mating obvious on the pale skin as he regained his senses. He could not find it in his heart to feel regret for what had happened, for he deeply loved Erestor....just as he loved Glorfindel. He only hoped that this action would aid him in his battle against the demand that was threatening to take him over as night drew near. He slept for a little, but soon awoke in restlessness.

 

Separating from Erestor, he grabbed a blanket and tucked it around his lover before putting on a white shift and going outside onto his balcony that looked out over the nearby forest. He tilted his head back as the wind blew up and watched as the sun slowly lowered below the horizon, bringing with it a chill in the air that had nothing to do with the sun setting. He wrapped his arms around his torso as he began to tremble, fighting the darkness that was welling up within him with every minute that passed closer towards nightfall. He gasped softly and clutched the railing, his grey blue eyes becoming golden and glowing as they slitted in the beginnings of his unwanted transformation.

 

“Ecthelion?”

 

Erestor’s voice startled him and he swung around to stare at his confused lover as Erestor came out wrapped in the blanket that he had wrapped the other Elf in. Holding his hand up shakily in a silent order to stay away as he leaned heavily against the banister, Ecthelion panted softly as his eyes filled with tears at Erestor’s look of distress and bewilderment. “Forgive me, Erestor...I...I can not fight it...” he pleaded as his voice cracked and became lower while his trembling hand shifted between Elven and animal.

 

Eyes widening in shock as he stared at his lover, Erestor stepped closer, but stopped as a snarl ripped through the air in warning. “Ecthelion what is wrong?” he asked softly, near tears as he saw how his lover was suffering.

 

“Forgive...me...” Ecthelion said again before all speech was banished from him as he lost his battle. With a wailing roar, he transformed, though it was not as easy as any other time because he fought it fiercely. The sound of bones cracking cut through the brittle cold air while muscles reshaped themselves. Ebony fur rustled along the pale body as it crouched onto all fours while the gentle face elongated and became a snout of sharp teeth under the glowing cat eyes. The ears elongated slightly and a tail appeared before Ecthelion’s transformation finished in front of Erestor’s horrified eyes. He shook himself and then roared, filling the air with his agony and despair before the darkness took over his feral mind and he turned glowing eyes onto Erestor.

 

But he did not attack Erestor. Instead, he jumped onto the balcony and then down, ignoring the cry from the Advisor as Erestor reached for him as he vanished from the terrace. Erestor watched in horror as Ecthelion disappeared into the lower levels of the House and it hit him: Ecthelion was going to kill someone that night. With a gasp, he quickly went back into the room and searched for a robe before he went running towards the Fire Hall. He had to stop his lover before it was too late!

 

*~*~*

 

The joyous sounds of celebration greeted Ecthelion as he prowled through the near empty halls towards the Fire Hall. He tilted his ears as he growled softly before going down a side hall and into the gardens. Once there, he stalked along the darkened pathways, searching for the other way in to the Fire Hall. When he found the veranda, he leapt up onto it and went inside, startling a few Elves. He snarled at them, causing some of the Ellith to scream while some of the surprised Ellyn shouted in warning, bringing the revelry to a screeching halt. All of the guests looked around in confusion while mayhem roared up as Ecthelion moved swiftly through the throngs, swiping at some of the slowly reacting Elves with his unsheathed claws, urging them to back away in fear as the cacophony of panic spread.

 

Some of the guards came running over as the revelers parted towards the side, leaving the panther near the center and clear to anyone’s view. He looked around, hissing in warning before he sighted his prey. With a snarl, he took off towards Elrond as the Half Elf stood near Melpomaen and Celebrían, who was visiting. Shouts of horror mingled with the screams as Ecthelion launched himself at the three Elves, aiming for Elrond’s throat.

 

But a dark blur thwarted the attack as it knocked the three out of the way at the last second. Ecthelion turned in midair and landed on the table, snarling in rage as his golden eyes flared brightly with his fury at the temporary rout of his attack. He leapt again to the attack, but the sudden sound of a dagger whistling through the air warned him too late just before it landed in his back. He was thrown off course and landed a few feet away, groaning in pain before changing into his Elven form.

 

Erestor looked over in shock at Glorfindel as the golden haired Elf stood frozen nearby, his hand still extended from having thrown the dagger to stop the attacking panther. But his shock wore off swiftly as he remembered just what had happened. With a choked cry, Erestor scrambled to his feet and ran over to his fallen lover, taking the dagger out before turning his shaking lover over. “Ecthelion...Ecthelion hold on!” he whispered frantically as he brushed his hand over the deathly pale cheek.

 

Looking up with his still golden eyes, Ecthelion coughed up blood before looking over Erestor’s shoulder at Glorfindel as the Seneschal slowly collapsed to his knees next to them. “F-Finish...it...m-melethen...” (my love) he whispered as he trembled, his voice thick with his blood as he stared hard at the golden haired Elf.

 

Shaking his head slowly as his eyes widened through his tears, Glorfindel leaned in and clasped Ecthelion’s face within his hands. “Fight this, meleth! You can beat this darkness!” (love) he whispered pleadingly, his whisper mirrored by Erestor’s own gaze that locked with Ecthelion’s.

 

A choked laugh of derision and despair left Ecthelion before he groaned and arched in pain. “I h-have f-fought...for three...c-centuries-s...” he gritted out as his eyes glowed brighter. “Finish it!” he commanded harshly as he gripped Glorfindel’s shoulder with a clawed hand. When Glorfindel could only stare at him in dismay, a pained growl left Ecthelion as he lost his battle to stay himself once more. He snarled as he transformed, shoving the two aside as he stood onto his four paws shakily. He stalked towards Elrond and Celebrían once more before crouching down and leaping at them with a snarling roar of grief.

 

Screaming in terror, Celebrían clung to Elrond as they watched the focused killer come at them while chaos broke out among the gathered. But Ecthelion suddenly jerked in midair as a glimmer of silver suddenly appeared through his chest. His body landed heavily next to the two and Elrond immediately went to Ecthelion’s side as screams and cries went up around them in shock and horror. He removed the dagger that had now struck true twice and turned Ecthelion onto his back. The panther slowly returned to the Elf and Ecthelion looked up at Elrond through the growing glaze of death. He smiled softly at Elrond and whispered weakly, “My vow...is fulfilled.” He then went limp in the Half Elf’s arms as black ooze left his mouth, his eyes unseeing as the pale face fell to the side. With a soft sob, Elrond hugged Ecthelion to him and was joined by Celebrían as she hugged him tightly while others around them either wept or tried to calm people down as they took in the horrid sight of one of their own having fallen.

 

But the two that were the most hit merely sat where they had been pushed aside to, both numb with their loss. Glorfindel suddenly curled up and sobbed before he was hugged by Erestor. They wept together in anguish within the desolate Hall. Ecthelion...was gone.

 

TBC

 


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter Sixteen**  
  
{Imladris, Hrívë 2 TA (approx. December 22)}

 

The dawn seemed too cheerful as it arrived to break the night for the somber Last Homely House. Many of the revelers had retreated to their rooms in either shock or grief after the disastrous attack on Lord Elrond. But a small few were in the Healing Halls in vigil over the one who had attacked the Peredhel Lord. Elrond, Celebrían, Erestor, and Glorfindel all sat around the bed that held the peaceful remains of Ecthelion. None of them seemed able to move in their grief, for they had been too blind to see how much pain Ecthelion had been in from his battles. And while they had tried to help in what small ways they could, it had not been enough in any true way, shape, or form.

 

As first light brought a grey glow into the room, they all seemed to wake from their haze of grief, though it was not very much as they took in the body before them. Elrond went over to Ecthelion’s body after a while and brushed his hand over the soft skin in the beginning rites of setting the faer to peace, his eyes welling up with tears at his failure to have healed this one. But his hand suddenly stopped as it came over the pale lips. He stared intently at the still face before bending in and placing his cheek just above the parted lips as he was watched in rising confusion by the other three. His eyes widened in shock as he felt the soft brush of air over his cheek and he moved instantly, startling the group who were with him as he pushed the sheet down just enough to see Ecthelion’s chest. As he watched along with the rest, they saw the wounds heal themselves slowly before Elrond placed his hands over them. His eyes closed and he drew in a deep breath before a soft warmth left his hands into the wounds, aiding their healing. He then quickly checked Ecthelion’s pulse and a soft cry left his mouth a minute later, surprising the trio that were watching him intently in shock. “He lives!”

 

Gasps of shock flew out of Erestor, Glorfindel, and Celebrían as they stared at Elrond in astonishment. Glorfindel strode over suddenly to Elrond and grabbed his collar, all but snarling in desperate hope. “Do not fool with us! How can he be alive?!” he demanded as he trembled.

 

“I know not, but it must have something to do with his changed body! But I tell you this: I do not sense any darkness within him or the duality that was his personality! He is free and alive!” Elrond replied in joy as he hugged his friend, laughing. Glorfindel could only gape before he laughed in elation, joined by the other two as they came over to see what Elrond had found, touching Ecthelion or hugging Elrond as soon as Glorfindel released him to check on Ecthelion.

 

They could not explain the miracle, but accepted it joyfully nevertheless. Elrond tucked Ecthelion in immediately and ordered for some healing broth to be brought in before commanding Erestor and Glorfindel to go and clean up and have something to eat after Celebrían had left to do the same. They at first bucked his command, but had then obeyed as soon as their exhaustion reminded them of that folly. So, together, they went towards their rooms in joy, nearly bouncing with their rejoicing.

 

It was in this revelry that Glorfindel noticed something odd on Erestor’s neck. “Erestor...do you have a passion mark?” he asked teasingly as he grabbed the loose tunic that was on Erestor to take a better glimpse. He stopped suddenly as his grin slid from his lips when he noticed that Erestor was very pale at the mention of the mark and also that the tunic was not Erestor’s. The tunic, he realized as a sick feeling rose from his stomach, was Ecthelion’s. His eyes flew up to Erestor’s shame filled gaze and he stumbled back as if slapped. “You and he have...have...”

 

“Aye, we made love,” Erestor answered the unspoken observation as he bowed his head, swallowing hard as the memories from the previous night went tumbling through his mind. “I had come to see if he was all right, for he had disappeared after taking something for me and he was nigh feral with his battle against his inner darkness,” he explained softly as he looked up and walked closer towards the garden windows and gazed out. “I could not defend myself as he attacked and threw me onto the divan in his room, but my voice must have broken through the haze for he stopped from killing me. Instead, it was as if...such lust and need he inspired within me...” he stopped before turning around to face the pale faced Seneschal, his own gaze apologetic. “We could not help ourselves...it was a culmination of so much! But...but I know this one thing and that is that I love him dearly, not as kin, but as a lover,” he whispered as a tear rolled down his cheek with his declaration.

 

A shuddering breath was drawn into the stunned Elf Lord as he stared almost unseeingly at Erestor before he stepped back. He could not even react as he tried to absorb what had been revealed to him. Ecthelion and Erestor...He suddenly found himself enveloped in a tender hold and blinked through the tears that were rolling down his face. “I know now, my Ecthelion. I know now how your heart must have rent in two at the sight of my love for Turgon,” he whispered hoarsely through his tears as he looked up at the ceiling. He suddenly sagged into Erestor’s hold and sobbed as he brought his arms up to hold Erestor closer to him while he wept.

 

“Do not cry...please. I did not mean for it to happen. He loves you so...” Erestor whispered through his own tears as he struggled to comfort Glorfindel through the shock. He tightened his hold as Glorfindel sobbed once more, urging his own tears to flow more freely at having hurt his dearest friend so deeply. “Please do not cry. I can not bear to see you so hurt, meldiren...melethen...” (my dear friend, my love) he pleaded, then stopped with a gasp as he realized what he had just said. He stared at nothing as Glorfindel slowly released him and gazed at him in shock, for he had heard what was said as well. They looked at each other before Erestor pulled away as a shaking hand came up to his mouth and he ran into his rooms, unable to face the one he had so hurt.

 

Confused and utterly bewildered with what had just happened, Glorfindel could only stare after where Erestor had gone. He finally shook himself and went to his rooms, where he numbly went into his bathing room to take a nice hot soak. Once in the steaming water, he went over all that had occurred, sorting it in an effort to understand just what had been revealed and what his feelings were on it all. When he finally came to the rather startling revelations that had just occurred, he realized that he was studying his own feelings for Erestor in a new light. He knew he loved Ecthelion with everything in him as he did Turgon as well. But he suddenly realized that, without his intending to, Erestor had grown within his heart in equal parts to Turgon and Ecthelion.

 

And, as he studied these newly revealed feelings, he understood finally why he had not been jealous at Erestor’s confession. He had accepted it. In fact...the only thing he was jealous of was that he had not been there! This thought shocked him and he started laughing, letting go of all of his tension as he laughed in relief, joy, and delight. Aye, he loved Ecthelion, Turgon, and Erestor and, if he had his way, he was going to have them all...one way or another!

 

*~*~*

 

The coldness around him began to slowly dissipate, though it was so subtle that he did not realize that it was occurring until he found himself becoming more aware. He finally realized that he was alive and breathing when he felt how heavy he was and that he was warm. But he did not have the strength to do more than observe his status and so slept for an unknown amount of time. Finally, Ecthelion felt aware enough to push for consciousness and opened his eyes little by little, allowing his eyes to adjust to the near blinding sunlight that was flooding his surroundings slowly before he worked to focus. He turned his head slightly and felt his hand being squeezed, informing him that he was not alone. He opened his eyes once more and searched for the source of his comfort, a faint smile coming to his lips as his gaze landed upon the joy filled face of his kinsman. He opened his mouth to speak, but was stopped with a gentle finger on his dry lips as Erestor leaned in. His eyes fluttered closed as the finger was replaced by soft lips, breathing warm air into him as he tilted his head up to connect them fully.

 

They parted after a minute and he reopened his eyes to gaze deeply into Erestor’s eyes as the Peredhel sat down on the edge of his bed. He allowed for his head to be lifted up and supported as a cool glass of water was placed at his lips, urging him to drink deeply of the welcome liquid before he was laid back down onto the pillow. He sighed quietly as he rested before looking over at Erestor again. “Why...am I alive?” he finally whispered hoarsely as he squeezed the fingers that held his own.

 

“That is a miracle that we thought you might be able to explain to us,” Erestor replied teasingly as he grinned before shifting on the bed so that he was laying out half on the bed and half on Ecthelion so that they were touching as much as possible. He wrapped his arm around Ecthelion’s shoulders as he smiled gently before tucking Ecthelion close to him. He sighed quietly as Ecthelion nuzzled close to him, comforting them both as they just snuggled in silence.

 

After a bit, Ecthelion murmured softly, “I do not know how I survived, but I am free. I do not feel him within my heart anymore.” His shoulders began to tremble as he brought his arms up to hold Erestor as tightly as he could while he wept in relief and joy. Erestor’s arms tightened around him as loving words were whispered in his ear, causing him to cry even harder in joy as he realized that he was able to be with Erestor in freedom. An unsure amount of time passed before he calmed down and found himself resting within his lover’s hold, feeling peace wash over him for the first time since he had been changed.

 

The sound of a throat clearing interrupted their peaceful repose and they both looked over slowly to see that they were being watched by a grinning Elrond. Erestor carefully disentangled himself from Ecthelion and sat up, his cheeks reddening with embarrassment as the other Peredhel came over to the reawakened Elf’s bedside. “It is good to see you awake, Lord Ecthelion,” Elrond stated warmly as he sat in the chair by the bed. “How do you feel?”

 

“Like I have been given a new life,” Ecthelion replied quietly as he lay back on the pillows that were supporting him. His eyes were soft with joy as he smiled, but the light did not last as he gazed at Elrond. “I could not fight it, my Lord. It was the darkest and longest night of the year...” he whispered as tears came to his eyes in shame. He was stopped by a gentle hand on his hand and he gazed at the Peredhel Lord with sorrow and apology.

 

“You were not the one who attacked us. That creature is now dead. Sauron no longer has a handhold within the Elven people and it is because of your strength that we can rest a little more easily in these uncertain times,” Elrond answered kindly as he squeezed the hand that he held. He smiled encouragingly as Ecthelion looked up at him in hope and nodded. “You are free to live your life now, Ecthelion. Live it with everything in you,” he suggested before standing and, after another smiling nod to them both, left them alone.

 

Sighing softly as he closed his eyes, Ecthelion smiled tearfully before opening his watery eyes to look at his lover. “Will you stay with me, Erestor?” he asked huskily as he squeezed the hand that cupped his own.

 

“For as long as you will have me, melethen,” (my love) Erestor replied just as huskily as his own tears welled up to choke him. He leaned over closer to hug his lover to him, overjoyed at being able to hold his lover when he had feared the loss of his beloved not very long ago. But his bliss was suddenly clouded as he remembered one who would also be affected by Ecthelion’s return to life.

 

Glorfindel.

 

Sensing his lover’s sudden reticence, Ecthelion brushed his hand along Erestor’s back. “What is wrong?” he whispered softly before he laid back onto the pillows once more, looking up at the Peredhel in concern. His concern rose as Erestor avoided his gaze and he brushed his hand along Erestor’s arm in an effort to gain his lover’s attention.

 

Erestor continued to gaze down at his hands before he finally whispered, “Glorfindel knows of what we did the night of the Solstice.” Silence greeted his revelation for a few minutes before he finally took courage and looked over. Ecthelion’s eyes were wide with horror within his pale face and Erestor suddenly felt worried that he had pushed the limits of Ecthelion’s returned health. He reached over immediately and laced their hands together tightly as he explained. “He saw the mark on my neck that you left in our passion. His...he was...”

 

“He was finally aware of how you felt when you saw the same thing the night Gondolin fell.” Glorfindel’s voice startled them both as he came into the room, having been informed by Elrond of his former lover’s return to consciousness. His blue eyes were soft with welcome and understanding as he came over to them, but they grew saddened as Ecthelion looked away almost immediately. He sought out Erestor’s gaze, but saw that he was denied that option as well when he instead found himself staring at the back of Erestor’s head. He sighed quietly as he stood at the edge of the bed, watching them sadly. Perhaps his hopes were not as he had thought they would be. “I see that I have come at a bad time. I shall come later,” he whispered, swallowing hard on the sudden tears of hopelessness that welled up within his throat as he turned and left the room silently.

 

Looking up with a soft sniffle, Ecthelion watched Glorfindel leave before closing his eyes tightly on his tears. “Erestor...I...please go. I need to be alone,” he whispered shakily as his tears broke free. Looking up in shock, Erestor stared silently at his lover before looking down and standing. He left the room quickly, leaving Ecthelion alone in the room. Bringing a shaky hand up to his mouth, Ecthelion gave into his need to weep, letting his tears fall as sobs shook his body anew. His other arm wrapped around his waist as he cried, no longer joyful as his despair at what had happened swept over him. He did not know how to fix what had been done, but knew in his heart that he had to figure something out soon or else he might lose all he had fought for. And that was something he could not accept.

 

TBC

 


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter Seventeen**

 

{Imladris, Hrívë 3 TA (approx. beg. January)}

 

The light sound of a quill scratching on parchment was all that floated within the room as Ecthelion sat at his desk, working on some correspondences for Elrond. Since his miraculous recovery a week ago, he had been helping as much as he could. Most of the time it was in a genuine interest to aid the bustling realm, but sometimes it was out of secret guilt for having caused so much trouble and heartache.

 

The attitude of most if not all of the Elves in Imladris had been of joy for his recovery and delight as he began mingling with them. There were some, mainly those whose hearts were not so easily trusting, that whispered nastily of his betrayal, yet they were ignored by many and a few of them were even converted by his warm genuineness. But his new acceptance into Elven society did not heal the uncertainty and pain within his heart whenever he dealt with Erestor or Glorfindel.

 

Since the day he had woken up, he only briefly visited with Erestor on most of the days, mainly to take what he could to help lighten their load. But he had not spoken at all to Glorfindel since that day, though he did see the golden haired Elf at the public dinners at night. It felt now more than ever that there was a large chasm between them and once again it was because of Ecthelion. Only this time, instead of being the one who had been slighted, he had instead slighted Glorfindel. And he had no idea just how he could reconcile what he had done to the Seneschal.

 

Sighing quietly as he finished his letter, he sat back and placed his fingers on the bridge of his nose to stave off the sudden tears that came to his eyes. He was free after three centuries of servitude to Sauron...free to love whom he wished with a liberated heart. He had fulfilled his vow on the night he had ‘died’, for in that instant he had taken away the one thing that Glorfindel had loved most: Ecthelion. But he could not justify his feelings anymore. He loved Erestor and he loved Glorfindel. He found even that he loved Turgon and had always loved him, but had not even recognized the love for one of passion, instead had seen it as deep friendship only. He understood now why Glorfindel and Turgon had fallen into a relationship and also knew that, if things had been different all those years ago, he would have said ‘yes’ to becoming more with his High King.

 

But he did not know how to bridge this gap now. He knew he needed to speak to them both, to know where their hearts might lie not only for him, but also for each other. But how could he ask such a delicate question?

 

His thoughts were interrupted as the sound of a knock broke the silence of his room. “Enter!” he called out quietly as he sat up and looked over in curiosity at whoever was entering. His heart began to pound as Erestor entered in quietly, his gaze lowered respectfully as he stood near the door. Knowing that this was his chance, Ecthelion smiled. “Please come in, melethen,” (my love) he whispered tenderly as he stood.

 

Looking up in surprise at the tone and words, Erestor’s eyes shone with hope. Neither had spoken so lovingly to each other in a while now and Ecthelion knew then that Erestor had despaired. After closing the door behind him, Erestor went over quietly and met Ecthelion in the center of the room, looking up at him hopefully before he was embraced in the strong arms of his lover. He clung to them as he pillowed his head on the warm shoulder. “I was coming to speak with you on something else, but I would much rather have this,” he whispered softly as he trembled when a soothing hand ran along his spine before returning up. He leaned back and looked up at Ecthelion, his eyes warm with love. “I was so afraid...” he whispered, but was stopped with a gentle finger to his lips.

 

“I know and I am to blame for that. My mind has been in a muddle since that day, but now I seek to rectify our situation,” Ecthelion responded gently as he smiled before leading Erestor towards the divan. He grinned as a faint blush covered Erestor’s cheeks as the soft blue eyes took in the place where they had made love not long ago. “I know,” he said, grinning as Erestor looked over at him quickly. He sat down and gathered Erestor onto his lap, holding him close. “My thoughts go back to that day as well with great fondness,” he explained with a wink, chuckling as Erestor blushed even redder as he ducked his head.

 

“I think back on it often...longing...” Erestor whispered before settling himself on Ecthelion’s lap, where he rested his head on his lover’s shoulder. “But I long for something else as well,” he added hesitantly, his eyes flicking up to Ecthelion’s profile before returning down skittishly.

 

“I believe we have the same objective then on our mind...at least I pray we do,” Ecthelion murmured as he caressed Erestor’s thigh slowly, his eyes watching his hand as he spoke. “What do you feel for Glorfindel, my love?” he finally asked after a few moments of silence, broaching the subject immediately in an effort to work a way towards healing for them all. Silence greeted his words and he felt his heart stutter in fear. What if he had read Erestor wrong...

 

Finally, after a bit, Erestor snuggled closer before whispering, “I love him as I love you.” He looked up as Ecthelion tilted his head to look down at him and he smiled. “He holds the same love in my heart as you do.”

 

Closing his eyes as he felt joyful tears fill them, Ecthelion drew in a deep breath to calm his excited heart before opening his eyes. “Your words give me the greatest of all hopes, my love. For I knew that I could never choose between you,” he whispered huskily as he cupped Erestor’s pale face, his thumb gently caressing the soft pink lips that smiled up at him. His breath hitched as Erestor impishly flicked his tongue out to lick his thumb and he felt desire bubble up within him. He did not resist it and leaned his head in to replace his thumb, kissing the supple lips until they were reddened with their hungry kissing. He tilted his head back and gazed down at his eager lover, a soft smirk curling his lips before he said, “Will you help me bring Glorfindel to our understanding?”

 

“Aye, whole heartedly and soonest, for this nonsense has gone on long enough!” Erestor replied eagerly, earning a laugh from Ecthelion as he sat up, grinning. His blue eyes suddenly became devious and he glinted at his lover as he smirked almost evilly. “I have an idea,” he purred as he leaned against the broad chest of his lover before plying those tempting lips for more drugging kisses.

 

Moaning as he tugged Erestor closer, Ecthelion returned the kisses before whispering heatedly, “Then tell me and let us begin our seduction.” A soft chuckle greeted him just as he flipped Erestor onto his back and laid out over him. Their plotting could wait for now...

 

*~*~*

 

A soft knock on his door surprised Glorfindel as he was changing into more formal robes for dinner. Calling for the messenger to enter, he turned and smiled as a servant came inside. “What is it?” he asked warmly as he folded his hands before him.

 

Bowing, the messenger placed a fist over his heart before saying, “My Lord, Lord Ecthelion has requested that you come to his rooms this night before dinner. He wishes to speak with you.”

 

Confused, Glorfindel blinked as he ran a hand through his hair. “Did he give any inclination as to what this topic is to be?” he asked as he paced slightly, glancing towards his bed where his robe was waiting to be donned.

 

“Nay, my Lord. He only asked me to deliver this message,” the other Elf replied as he straightened dutifully.

 

“Very well, you may go then,” Glorfindel said in dismissal before walking towards his bed. The servant bowed and left, leaving Glorfindel to his thoughts. ‘What could Ecthelion wish to speak with me on? We have come to an agreement now, have we not?’ he wondered as he tapped his lip, though his eyes were sad as he thought back to that day when his beloved had woken from his near death. Sighing, he shrugged and pulled on the robe. “It will not hurt to see him. We still have our friendship after all,” he murmured to himself before heading from his room.

 

He ran a taming hand over his hair as he walked along, making himself more presentable before coming to his former lover’s rooms. He knocked quickly, and then entered as soon as he heard the soft summons, closing the door behind him before going into the room. “Ecthelion? You summoned me to talk?” he called quietly as he went in, and then stopped as he saw his former lover seated on the rather large king-sized bed that was before him. He felt his mouth go dry with want as his eyes trailed over his lover.

 

Dressed in only a black robe that was resting partially on one shoulder, Ecthelion watched Glorfindel with a soft smile. His dark hair gleamed in the soft firelight of the nearby fireplace and his pale skin took on a burnished glow. Glorfindel’s breath hitched as he noticed on the shoulder a soft bruise and, upon further scrutiny, saw that Ecthelion’s hair was slightly mussed and the scent of sex was heavy in the air. He swallowed hard at his conclusion, but was still startled as Erestor came out of the bathing room, dressed also in a black robe as he combed his hair. He was bewildered even further as Erestor smiled warmly at him in greeting before crawling onto the bed behind Ecthelion. The Peredhel peeked over Ecthelion’s shoulder as he pressed a kiss to the pale shoulder, smiling naughtily. Ecthelion tilted his head to look at his lover and smiled before focusing once more on Glorfindel.

 

Uncertain and now rapidly becoming aroused, Glorfindel swallowed hard as he shifted on his feet, trying to find a way to hold his hands and settling for having them before his lower stomach before he asked in a raspy whisper, “You...you called for me?”

 

“Aye we did, Glorfindel,” Ecthelion murmured as his darkening gaze took in the discomfiture that was taking over the golden haired Elf before them. He smiled slowly, his lips curving in a seductive curl that had always managed to reduce Glorfindel into a mass of need in the past and served to do the same even in the present. “You see, there have been some misunderstandings between we three and it is time for it be stopped,” he continued as if they were discussing what plants to seed in the coming spring.

 

Clearing his throat as he blinked in surprise, Glorfindel fiddled with the collar of his robe as he whispered, “Stopped how?”

 

“What Ecthelion is trying to say is that we both agree that we wish to be together...with you,” Erestor purred out as he wrapped his arms around Ecthelion in a slow caress, which succeeded in shifting the ebony robe that his lover wore so that the other shoulder was revealed in a slow slide of pale skin. He grinned as Glorfindel’s eyes widened and trained on the soft flesh before quickly shifting up to their eyes. Smiling coyly as he licked along Ecthelion’s shoulder and eliciting a purr from Ecthelion, Erestor ran his fingers along his lover’s thigh as he focused on the Seneschal. “What are your feelings for us, Glorfindel?” he finally asked softly as he stilled his hand and waited tensely for the answer.

 

Licking his lips as he obviously fought an urge, Glorfindel watched them with a sudden hunger and need that delighted them both. “I thought you would never ask...” he whispered finally in a husky voice, grinning as they grinned at him in joy. He strode forward and was at the bedside within two strides then sat down next to them. Without wasting any time, he leaned in and kissed Ecthelion heatedly, nearly crowing and sobbing with joy as the kiss was returned with equal ardor. Their kiss broke and he leaned back to look at Erestor, who was watching them in a mixture of hope and desire, and then shifted in to grab Erestor’s lips in a demanding kiss. Moaning loudly, Erestor laced his hand within the golden locks as he yielded to the kiss wholeheartedly.

 

When they broke for air, Glorfindel sat back and watched them with love and desire. He turned his face into the soft palm that cupped his cheek as his eyes trailed to Ecthelion. “I longed for the day that you would welcome me back into your arms. I am sorry I hurt you so badly long ago. It was never my intent, but even good intentions fail when courage is lacking,” he whispered softly before gathering them both to him. “I never dreamed that this would happen...that my hopes would come to fruition. When I figured out how much I loved you both...I prayed for guidance,” he added as he nuzzled their necks, feeling comforted and loved as they wrapped their arms assuredly around his shoulders.

 

“Then thank the Valar for guiding all of our hearts down the right path. You were my light in dark places and Erestor was my guiding hand in my shadowed path. Without either of your love, I would have never been able to return,” Ecthelion murmured as he caressed both of his lovers tenderly.

 

“I love you both. That is all I need to say,” Erestor mumbled out as he buried his face in Glorfindel’s neck, grinning against the pale flesh as the other two laughed at his words. He leaned back and smirked seductively before crawling backwards a bit. He sat up on his knees and untied the knot on his sash. “We are too over dressed,” he purred out as the dark robe fell off of his ashen body and was summarily tossed off to the side. He stretched out on the bed and eyed them as hungrily as he was being eyed and licked his kiss bruised lips. “I want to watch you two together,” he murmured softly as his long legs bent idly above his firm buttocks as he made himself comfortable.

 

Staring at the normally shy Chief Advisor, Glorfindel had to swallow again before he looked at his lover. “Is he always so brash?” he asked incredulously before his eyes widened. He had not seen Ecthelion strip and now was reminded of just what a lovely body his beloved held.

 

“Oh aye though he earns a spanking if he crosses a line. I remember how much *you* loved your spankings,” Ecthelion answered with a wicked grin as he began to remove Glorfindel’s clothes. He was aided eventually by a dumbfounded Glorfindel and soon the golden haired Elf was bared for all his glory to them. Groaning, Ecthelion straddled his lover’s lap and greedily rocked against the already leaking member there. “I forgot how delectable you are, melethen,” he growled out as he drank of Glorfindel’s mouth repeatedly, plying those soft lips until they were swollen from their kisses.

 

“You have changed some, my love...but I love what I see,” Glorfindel replied with an answering growl as his hands cupped Ecthelion’s hips and kneaded the firm flesh there. He moaned as Ecthelion bucked and undulated on his lap, driving his desire higher as pleasure spiraled through him with each move. He gasped and bucked as his neck was suckled and bit, sending him over the edge of his far too hasty climax with a shout as he clung to his lover in his spasms. He groaned as he looked up at Ecthelion in a daze before he was kissed deeply, his tongue dueling lazily with his lover’s as they lay back onto the bed. He blinked as his mouth was released before he was kissed once more, this time by Erestor.

 

Chuckling as he watched his two lovers, Ecthelion stood and fetched the small jar of lubricant he had thought to purchase in the hopes that he would be having more ‘escapades’. He returned and found Glorfindel’s golden head between Erestor’s spread thighs, bobbing slowly as Erestor writhed under the talented ministrations. He purred as he came over and slicked up his fingers before pressing one inside of Glorfindel, startling the other two as Glorfindel groaned loudly, which in turn sent vibrations all along Erestor’s straining flesh. Erestor looked up and watched avidly as Ecthelion took his time in preparing Glorfindel, then eagerly spread his legs farther as Glorfindel leaned up and licked his lips. He mewled in pleasure as a finger pressed into him, squirming happily as he was stretched by Glorfindel in turn. His eyes focused once more on his first lover as Ecthelion growled lowly with arousal while watching them before shifting onto the bed behind Glorfindel. He then moved Glorfindel back, pulling the slender fingers from their younger lover.

 

Pouting at the loss, Erestor however quickly forgot his discontentment as he watched Ecthelion sit back on his heels and pull Glorfindel onto his lap. He shuddered with longing as the long legs were parted while they kissed before Ecthelion used his considerable strength to lift Glorfindel and impale him on his turgid shaft. Glorfindel arched and cried out as he was filled, clutching at the powerful thighs that supported his buttocks as he was spread for Erestor’s view. His hole was tightly stretched over the invading flesh while his own member was so hard that it was curved over his stomach and leaking copiously. He panted as he waited for Ecthelion to move, unable to even squirm as he was held firmly in place by his dark haired lover.

 

Growling lowly as he nipped along Glorfindel’s shoulder, Ecthelion grinned almost ferally as he whispered huskily, “You always did love having me fill you...” At Glorfindel’s whimper, he began rocking slightly, moving in and out in shallow thrusts while he locked eyes with the avidly watching Erestor. He tilted his head forward to kiss the golden haired Elf’s lips demandingly as he moved them, but then released Glorfindel’s legs. He shifted them forward and stopped his thrusts before gesturing for Erestor to move under Glorfindel. Understanding what was happening, Erestor slid into place underneath Glorfindel, spreading his legs before lifting his hips up to welcome the guided flesh that was pressed into him. They all groaned in tandem as he was filled and Erestor placed a hand on Glorfindel’s shoulder as he arched.

 

Ecthelion continued to hold them still before Glorfindel growled out a “Move, curse you!” He chuckled and began to thrust in earnest at once, pushing Glorfindel deep within the Peredhel that was beneath them and eliciting groans and moans of pleasure from them all. Their rhythm was uncoordinated at first before they became used to the others and soon were writhing together in rising want. It did not last long, for their passion for each other was fiery and soul-binding and so with almost simultaneous cries, they climaxed and fell into the bliss of release, holding each other tightly as they shuddered and released their seed in signs of their completion. They collapsed together onto the bed and curled up together, laughing and kissing in their joy and bliss as they worked to catch their breaths. Eventually, they settled into a tangle of limbs as they dozed in sated happiness, caressing and touching each other in loving strokes as they just lay together. And they knew that they would not have to suffer anymore as long as they had each other.

 

TBC

 

 


	18. Chapter 18

**Epilogue**  
  
{A small ways from Valimar, Aman, Tuilë 74 Fourth Age (approx. mid April)}  
  
The glitter of light within his goblet mesmerized Turgon as he sat slumped in his chair, lost in both memories and boredom. He had been reborn about a hundred years after Glorfindel had been reborn, about seventy years before the fall of Númenor, and had been living outside of Valimar since about four years after his rebirth. He had rejoiced in being reunited with his family and had thought that he had found bliss when he had discovered Elenwë and Idril along with Tuor and even Eärendil. But that had not been the case as he realized that his original love with his wife had tempered itself into a deep friendship. The fact that she also felt the same and had found another lover led to their parting in mutual love and dissolving their marriage so that they might seek other lovers. He had even attended her wedding not more than a decade later to Amrod Fëanorion, an action had shocked many including himself.   
  
He had then moved outside of Valimar to build a modest, yet luxurious home within the forest, blending his house within a large ancient oak that had called to him on his journey one day. Since that day, he had had many visitors such as his brother Fingon and sister Aredhel along with Fingolfin his father. But his loneliness had not been eased and he came to realize that the reason he was so lonely was because of the one whom he had loved so passionately at the end of his time on Arda. Yet, when he admitted that to himself, it was quickly followed with a correction: he loved not one, but two.  
  
Since he had been reborn, he had not heard anything of Ecthelion or Glorfindel, but the last he had seen before his rebirth had been of Ecthelion’s suffering and Glorfindel’s search for their love. His heart had broken in that time for Turgon had known that it was because of him that Ecthelion was suffering. If he had had the courage to speak up to them equally and immediately, then no hatred and betrayal would have been borne between them. He had eventually come to terms with his guilt, but he could only pray for the day when Ecthelion and he could finally see each other face to face and he could finally beg pardon for his unforgivable deed.  
  
Sighing as he frowned at his thoughts, Turgon tilted his head back as he sought a better glimpse of the light within his miruvor. With the arrival of Elrond Peredhel, the special liqueur that had been a delicacy of the now most likely faded land of Imladris had become a popular trade. He had managed to requisition several bottles of the fine drink from the first ten years of its production before it had been restricted for holidays or medicinal means. He enjoyed having it every now and again mainly due to his temperance for dark thoughts. It served to warm him and remind him that he was alive and that things would soon be better. He just hoped that it was not long in coming...  
  
His gloomy thoughts were interrupted unexpectedly as a knock on his door resounded through his home. “Enter!” he called as he stood slowly in confusion to face the main doorway. He was not expecting any company...who could it be?   
  
He waited patiently for his guest to appear and was summarily stunned as his gaze was greeted with none other than Glorfindel. His breath hitched as he took in the fair face, vigorous physique, and golden hair that had taunted his dreams for centuries before his stare returned to the laughing blue eyes of his past lover. “Glorfindel!” he suddenly crowed as he ran from his seat and hugged the returned Elf tightly, swinging him around in his exuberance and joy. “You have returned to Aman!” he declared before releasing the laughing Elf Lord and wiping at his brimming tears.   
  
“Aye, melethronen I have returned! And I bring with me great joy!” (my lover) Glorfindel replied enthusiastically as he beamed at his dark haired lover before stepping to the side.  
  
Bewildered, Turgon looked towards the doorway and gasped in shock as he saw Ecthelion standing before them, smiling at them as he leaned lazily against the door way. Gaping, though unable to speak through his astonishment, the former High King could only stare as his gaze drank in the relaxed sight of the Elf whom he had betrayed so many millennia ago. He stepped forward, but then stopped as tears rolled down his face, overcome with emotion as he gazed at Ecthelion.  
  
Smiling softly, Ecthelion straightened and stepped forward until he was but a foot from Turgon. “Do you not wish to hug me as well, melethen?” (my love) he whispered gently as he brought a hand up to brush away the tears.   
  
A gust of a sob left Turgon as he smiled joyfully before hugging Ecthelion tightly, sobbing slightly as the hug was returned with just as much ardor. “I never thought this day would come,” Turgon whispered tearfully as he buried his face in the other dark haired Elf’s shoulder, his own body trembling with his emotions. “Please say you forgive me, Ecthelion. I never meant to ever hurt you. I love you so much,” he pleaded in a muffled voice as he shook with his sobs.  
  
“Your forgiveness was given long ago, Turgon. Now we are all together. I love you as well and have always loved you,” Ecthelion murmured tenderly as he rubbed Turgon’s shaking back soothingly while he leaned his cheek against the dark head. He leaned his head back and looked into Turgon’s tear streaked face before smiling as he cupped the flushed cheeks. He moved his head in and brushed his lips over Turgon’s in a lingering kiss that radiated tenderness, love, and forgiveness, causing Turgon to sob once more into his mouth before pressing closer and sealing the kiss completely. They broke apart after a bit and hugged each other once more in joy and happiness before Glorfindel joined them with a grin.  
  
After a few minutes, Glorfindel snickered as he stepped back, which in turn urged the other two to break their clinch. He winked at Turgon before saying, “There is one other we wish for you to meet, Turgon. He...well, Ecthelion *you* explain!”  
  
Rolling his eyes, Ecthelion whapped the golden haired Elf half heartedly as Turgon looked between them in bafflement. “You are such a moron,” Ecthelion retorted before releasing a much put upon sigh and smiling at Turgon. “He is someone who helped us through very rough times and has become very dear to our souls. He is, like you, the other part of our souls and we his. He is also my kin,” he explained gently before stepping towards the door. Turgon watched him with wide eyes and blinked as Ecthelion tenderly drew in a very shy Elf into the room. Ecthelion smiled over at Turgon as he wrapped his arm around the Elf’s waist. “Turgon, please meet Erestor. Erestor, this is Turgon,” he said in introduction.  
  
“Please play nice,” Glorfindel added teasingly, earning a snort of laughter from Ecthelion and a grin from Erestor as he finally looked up.  
  
Stepping forward, Turgon stood before Erestor and searched the soft blue eyes solemnly for a minute and in turn was scrutinized as well. After a minute, he smiled warmly and held his hands up, beaming as Erestor slid his graceful fingers into his own hands. “It is a pleasure and joy to meet one whom I willingly thank for being there for two of the most precious people in my life. I hope that we might become close as well,” he finally stated quietly, warmly as he smiled at Erestor.  
  
Fairly beaming with happiness, Erestor nodded firmly as he squeezed the slender fingers he held. “I will look forward to that as well, Turgon. You are most valued by the two Elves who have become my soul and I long to know you as they do,” he answered softly as he blushed slightly.  
  
“That will indeed be a very fun time I think,” Turgon purred suggestively as he waggled his eyebrows. Erestor snickered softly as he blushed even more while the other two laughed softly at their teasing. Turgon then moved forward and wrapped his arms in a welcoming hug around Erestor, holding him close as the strong arms came up along his back and held him just as tightly. “Welcome to your new home,” he whispered.  
  
“Hannon le,” (thank you) Erestor murmured as he buried his face in the strong shoulder and relaxed. He had been very scared to meet the former High King. But he should have known that everything would work out. As they sat down in the study to catch up and bond, he considered how his life had changed one night under the light of the new moon and knew that everything would indeed be good.  
  
 **The End!**

 


End file.
